Road Trip
by stella-pegasi
Summary: The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation? (Please note: For the most part each chapter is contained to one location and the story arc is complete within each. Road Trip began to take a life of its own at some point and became this epic length. And yes... I'm going to finish this... almost halfway done.)
1. Part 1  Wine Country

**Title:** **Road Trip**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

**Word Count: **Part 1 6,483

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **I started out writing a 10,000+ word story for a challenge. I was having so much fun with the story that I decided to write more segments of Sheppard and company and their road trip. As I complete a segment of the trip, I will add it to this post and mark it complete until I update it again. Most of the genres listed above will be in each segment, but Part One is more getting into the groove of the trip. I hope you enjoy…I really have had fun writing this.

* * *

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

**Part One Wine Country **

"Carson, what are you wearing that for?"

"Rodney, we're going on vacation. I plan on fishing; besides, I feel like I'm on vacation when I wear my fishing vest."

"Well, you look silly."

"Oh, and you don't, in that shirt from the seventies. Right," Beckett retorted as he stuffed his suitcase in the back of the SUV, next to Rodney's, then gently placed his rod and reel and tackle box inside.

Rodney and Carson were still bickering as John Sheppard walked out of the warehouse, Ronon in tow. The warehouse was used as the beam point to and from the Apollo, which was in stationary orbit above Atlantis, as she sat cloaked on the surface of the Pacific Ocean. The workers standing nearby, dressed in maintenance uniforms, were actually Air Force SO's.

"Sheppard, I don't understand why I can't bring my blaster."

"Chewie, I have told you three times now; we are on vacation. We're going to be driving through a lot of small towns. I don't want to have to explain your blaster to a bunch of backwater sheriffs, in case we run into any trouble. And knowing our luck, we'll run into trouble. You can carry a 9-mil; just like the rest of us. You have all the proper documentation, and because we're all attached to the Air Force, we have permits to carry concealed weapons."

"You don't carry a 9-mil; your gun's is more powerful."

Sheppard dropped his head, sighing, "No; I don't. If you're nice, I'll let you carry my P-14…maybe." He tossed his bag in the back, slipped on his sunglasses, and walked toward the front of the SUV.

"I don't like this." Ronon walked up to the vehicle, and threw his duffle bag in the back, not noticing Carson's cringe when the bag missed his fishing rod by a couple of inches.

Sheppard got in the drivers seat of the rental Range Rover, which had been delivered that morning. He adjusted the seat, then began to adjust the mirrors, as Rodney hopped in the passenger seat beside him.

"What's eating Ronon; he doesn't look happy?"

Scoffing, Sheppard glanced back at Carson, who was still fiddling with the placement of his fishing rod. "Ronon is having separation anxiety…I've separated him from his blaster for this trip."

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Well, that can't be good; he's going to be in a foul mood the entire trip."

"So, you're not going to be in a foul mood then? All that gripping about not wanting to take a vacation because you didn't want to leave Atlantis to the geeks from Area 51, is over?"

"Bite me, Sheppard; those idiots are heavy-handed, and don't have the first idea about how delicate the instruments are on Atlantis. No, I don't like them being there."

Sheppard started to reply, but he heard the back hatch slam closed. He winced as the hatch glass rattled…Ronon no doubt. Carson piled in the seat behind him, and Ronon on the other side behind Rodney.

"Buckle up, everyone. Then we'll start our adventure." Sheppard was grinning, a tad artificially.

Rodney and Carson quickly buckled their seatbelts, but Ronon just sat there. Sheppard was watching him through the rearview mirror, "Ronon…now."

"Why? We don't have seatbelts on the jumpers…I don't see the need."

"We have inertia dampeners on the jumpers; here we don't. I would prefer not to have shredded dreadlocks everywhere if we have a wreck."

"Then don't wreck."

"_Now_, Chewie; it's the law, and it _is_ an order." Sheppard glanced around at him, a determined look on his face. Ronon stared at him for a second and then fastened his belt.

As Sheppard turned the ignition, he muttered, "Who thought this trip was a good idea?"

McKay chuckled, "You did."

Sheppard sighed and with a final look behind him, he drove through the warehouse gate, and onto Doyle Avenue, better known as US 101. The warehouse was located in the Presidio, which was once a military installation. Now run by the National Parks Service, the former Army base still held a few secrets. Some buildings were still under American military control, although the pubic perceived them as storage areas for park maintenance. They passed through the toll area, and began to cross the Golden Gate Bridge.

Sheppard opened the large sun-roof and lowered the windows a bit. The warm late morning air and the salty ocean smell wafted through the SUV.

"Sheppard, that wind is nasty, roll the windows up." Rodney whined.

"Wimp," he raised Rodney's window, then asked, "Anyone else?" With two no's from the back seat, Sheppard glanced at Rodney, grinning, "Wimp." McKay ignored him.

They rode in silence across the bridge, taking in the beauty of the bay and the ocean and the peninsula in front of them. As they came off the bridge, even Ronon seemed mesmerized by the view.

"That's a lot of boats down there."

"Yeah, that's Horseshoe Bay and the marina."

"That's nice."

"That it is."

"So where are we going, colonel?" Beckett asked.

"First, we're on vacation, call me John. We're heading first to Sonoma, in the California wine country. An old academy buddy of mine, retired about three years ago, and took over his family's winery. Thought we would look him up and take a tour; have a taste of good wine."

"Oh, that sound's exciting." Rodney deadpanned. He wasn't sightseeing. He was pouring over data on his pad.

"I thought you were navigating, not working, McKay."

"You lost already, Sheppard?" He snarked, " I mean I know you are directionally challenged, but really, this is a main highway and you're lost. Why don't you turn on the GPS, or is our resident flyboy too proud to ask for help?"

"I use nav systems all the time, and you know it. I just haven't needed the GPS, and no, I am not lost. Now stop working,"

Rodney ignored him. Sheppard glanced over at him, and laughed out loud when Ronon's arm snaked over the seat. The Satedan snatched the pad out of McKay's hands.

"What the fuck…give that back," Rodney whined.

"When Sheppard says you can have it, I'll give it back."

"Damn it," McKay twisted to reach behind him, but the seat belt kept him from turning enough.

Sheppard grinned, "See, Ronon, I told you seat belts were important."

Ronon was grinning broadly, for the first time since they left, "Yeah, I get it now."

Rodney turned around. He was frowning; his lips tightly pressed together. "I need that pad."

"You need to relax. You'll get the pad back, later." A harrumph from Rodney was his only reply.

Sheppard turned on the satellite radio, finding an oldies station playing songs from the seventies, eighties, and nineties. They drove on for about fifteen minutes enjoying the tunes, until Rodney spoke.

"I need to stop."

Sheppard turned down the radio, "What do you mean you need to stop?"

"I need to stop at a service station."

"Rodney, we will be in Sonoma in about thirty minutes, if you're hungry, we'll get lunch there."

"I'm not hungry; I need to stop."

Sheppard looked at Rodney, beginning to comprehend, "You need to go, is that what you're saying?" Rodney nodded and Sheppard snickered.

"Really, you didn't go before you left Atlantis, like a good boy?"

"Bite me; I was busy making certain I had secured everything so those morons couldn't destroy anything. I forgot."

"OK, guys; pit stop, Rodney has to go." Rodney glared at him.

Sheppard pulled into a food mart, and Rodney vaulted out of the Rover. When he realized the others were following him, the scientist spun around.

"You don't need to come in with me."

"Shut up, Rodney; we're getting something to drink, want to fill 'er up again?" Sheppard taunted, Beckett slapping him on the back, laughing. Rodney turned around and marched into the store.

They picked out snacks and drinks and were waiting at the counter when Rodney returned. Sheppard tapped his foot, "Come on, Rodney; we haven't got all day…oh yeah, maybe we do. Get what you want and let's go. I'm buying."

About ten minutes later they were back on the road, drinks and snacks in hand. Ronon had become obsessed with Mountain Dew since Atlantis had returned to Earth. The Marines had laid in a supply, and Ronon was hooked. He had a 2-liter bottle of Dew and three packages of chocolate cupcakes. Sheppard tore into his Zingers and water; Beckett had Twinkies and a diet coke. Rodney drank from his diet coke before he began to devour his chocolate cupcakes.

Ronon muttered, his mouth full, chocolate staining his teeth, "Your planet has some great food."

"First, try to refrain from saying 'your planet', might raise some eyebrows. As for the food, well, I don't think what we are eating is really food."

"The col…John…is correct; as a physician I can tell you, this is not nutritious," Beckett sputtered, as he shoved half of a Twinkie into his mouth. Mumbling through the sponge cake, he said, "It is, however, tasty."

Sheppard turned the radio volume up, and they spent the next fifteen chatting about nothing in particular. Ronon became engrossed in the billboards that lined the highway. He kept them occupied answering his questions about the products or places they were advertising. As they approached Sonoma, Sheppard turned off the main highway and headed through town. Spotting the Valley of the Moon welcome center, he pulled into a parking place.

Beckett asked, "What is the Valley of the Moon?"

"It refers to the valley where a lot of the vineyards in Sonoma are located. Rodney, hop out, go in and get a map of the wineries."

"What the hell, Sheppard…why do I have to go in there?"

"Because you are closest, Rodney, now go get the map."

"Let Ronon go."

"Rodney, you could have been inside and back in the car by now. Go."

Rodney was muttering as he got out of the car. Beckett laughed softly, remarking, "John; you're not gonna get him to relax while Atlantis is in the hands of Area 51. He's most unhappy about them being there."

"I know, but the IOA forced General Landry to allow the geeks from 51 to inspect Atlantis. I spoke to General O'Neill, and Woolsey; they agreed with me that it would be a good idea to get Rodney away from them. Ronon's old buddy, James Coolidge, the IOA liaison to the SGC, was going to be there for three weeks, overseeing the inspection or whatever, they are calling it. I doubt we would have had a _pleasant_ experience."

Ronon looked Sheppard in the eye, "Sheppard, we going home someday?"

"Yeah, big guy, we are. I promise."

Rodney came out of the visitors' center and hopped back in the car." Your map," he snarked as he handed Sheppard a brochure.

Sheppard opened the brochure to the map and after a second said, "There it is, Appell Lane Vineyard; looks like they serve lunch there as well." He started the SUV and waited for traffic to clear before he pulled out of the parking place.

"Your friend know we're coming?" Rodney asked.

"No; I haven't seen him since right before O'Neill showed up in Antarctica. He was nearing retirement then, always said he would stay in twenty-five years and then come back to the vineyard. He flew a group of VIP's down to McMurdo for a base inspection, and we spent a few days together."

"So he doesn't know about you being a colonel and all now?" Rodney asked.

Sheppard shook his head in reply, "He'll be surprised; he was pretty pissed at me the last time I saw him."

"Colonel…John…you haven't told us his name?" Beckett stumbled again over calling the colonel by his first name.

"Brad Appell; a big guy, he's almost as tall as Ronon. He's got pale blond hair, looks like a big surfer dude. He's married, nice woman named Elaine, and last I heard, he has two kids, Dennis and Melissa….they should be teenagers by now."

Beckett smiled, "Sounds like you two were good friends."

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, looking toward Beckett. "We were once, but that was before Afghanistan."

They drove in silence once more, enjoying the beautiful valley covered in acre after acre of grape vines. The rolling hills, dotted with crystal clear small lakes and ponds, seemed to go on for miles.

"This looks like Italy. It is so beautiful," Carson remarked.

Rodney, who seemed to have taken an interest in the brochure, replied, "According to this, most of the wines produced here are from Italian varietals."

"Varietals, what's that; I thought wine was made from grapes?" Ronon asked.

Before Rodney could say something snarky, Sheppard quickly answered, "That just means the type of grapes that grow in the country of Italy. They grow the same grapes here."

"That's where lasagna and spaghetti come from, right? I like that food."

"Yep, that's the same place."

A road sign was coming up and brick structure with brass letters was sitting underneath it, Sheppard slowed down to read it, "There it is, Appell Lane and Appell Lane Vineyards." He turned onto the narrower road tree-lined road, and after about a half-a-mile they arrived at a wide driveway. The entrance was flanked by two tall brick columns to which heavy wrought iron gates were attached. Above the gates was a graceful curved wrought iron banner with the vineyard name. They pulled into a brick-paved, and crowded, parking area. Sheppard found a spot to park near the sign pointing to the restaurant.

"Anybody hungry?" Sheppard asked as he opened the car door.

Ronon and Rodney answered in unison, "Yes."

Smiling, Sheppard said, "Then, let's go eat."

They walked into the darkened restaurant where a young woman greeted them and escorted them to a table which sat next to a large multi-paned window overlooking a small, beautiful courtyard. As she was handing them menus, Sheppard asked about his friend.

"Is Brad Appell around, I'm an old friend; I like to say hi."

"Mr. Appell is probably in the receiving house or at the residence. I can see if I can reach him. May I tell him your name?"

"Just tell him, "Shep."

"I will, sir…uh, Shep." She smiled coyly at Sheppard, then tossed a glance toward Ronon before she walked away.

Rodney groaned, "I knew this trip was going to be like this, Carson and I ignored while all the women fawn over Conon and the flyboy." He buried his head in his menu.

"Rodney, stop; she was just being friendly. She thinks we're friends of her boss. She's just being nice to us." Sheppard looked over at Ronon who was grinning; he grinned back.

Their server took their drink order and as he returned with the drinks, Sheppard heard a familiar voice behind him.

"You have got to be f'ing kidding me, Major John Sheppard."

Sheppard turned, "Yep. It's me." He stood up and stuck out his hand. Brad Appell grabbed Sheppard's arm and pulled him into a bear hug.

Looking considerably uncomfortable, Sheppard pulled away, "Good to see you too, Brad."

"What the hell are you doing here, major?"

"Not major, and we're on thirty-day's leave; out seeing the sights. We were in the neighborhood; so thought I drop by and say hi."

"Sit," Brad said, as he pulled a chair over from an empty table. "Hey, guys, welcome to Appell Lane." Sheppard made the introductions.

"So…on leave, but not a major anymore," Brad's voice lowered as he looked at Sheppard. His face was tense, his expression one of regret.

Sheppard glanced over at Rodney, who was staring at him with a pained look on his face. Rodney knew that some of Sheppard's old teammates had written him off as a failure a long time ago.

Carson, who apparently felt the tension, blurted out, 'No, John's a colonel, now."

Brad's eyes widened, his surprise evident, "A colonel? You're a colonel? Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, wow, man, that's great."

Sheppard grinned, "I know, hard to believe isn't it? It's just colonel though, not lieutenant." Sheppard waited, not realizing he was holding his breath for Brad's reaction.

"Holy shit, Shep; man, a full-bird, that's wicked. This calls for a bottle of our best sparkling wine." He called the server over, order food for himself, and told him to bring a couple of bottles of 1220.

Rodney asked, "1220? What kind of name is that?"

"McKay." Sheppard sighed.

"No, he's right; it's not the name…it's the batch number. We haven't released any sparkling wines yet. We're about two years from beginning to market it, but we have high hopes. Our vintner wants to tweak it a bit, but it's pretty close to the result we want."

Ronon asked, "Vintner, what's that."

"He's our wine maker. He's Scottish actually." He smiled at Beckett, "I imagine you will get along with him well, Carson; the accent is almost the same. His mother was from Italy. Her family made wine. He got interested in developing wines and studied both agronomy and chemistry in the UK before he came to America. My dad hired him about fifteen years ago, and he's really made a difference in the quality of our wine. It was good to begin with, but it's gotten really good in the last few years."

The sommelier arrived with the wine, presenting the bottles to Brad, along with five chilled glasses. Brad popped the cork with an ever so sight pop, and poured. Once everyone had a glass, he gave a toast.

"Here is to surprise visits, and to good, old friends and good new friends, and special congratulations to _Colonel _Sheppard."

They all took a sip, nodding in approval, and spent the rest of their lunch talking about the area and its history. After lunch, Brad took them on a tour of the winery and then out into the vineyards. It was nearly six in the evening when they returned, to the parking lot.

"So, it's decided, then; you guys will have dinner with us tonight, and spend the night at my friend's bed and breakfast. Lainey is looking forward to seeing you, John, and meeting everyone, so we'll see you at the house around 7:30. Use the gate up the road that I showed you earlier: just press the button and we'll buzz you in. Carmen and Lorenzo are waiting for you at the B&B. See you, later."

Once back on the main road, they drove about two miles past Appell Lane to the Sonora Bed and Breakfast. The B& B was in a large, turn-of-the-century Victorian house surrounded by late summer flowers and huge trees.

"Oh, this is lovely." Carson said as they walked up the steps to the wide veranda, suitcases in hand. Large white wicker chairs and couches with overstuffed flowery cushions adorned the porch, large ferns and pots of flowers sat in every nook.

"A little froufrou, don't you think?" Rodney snarked.

"Rodney, it goes with the territory." Sheppard snarked back, and opened the front door.

They were greeted by a warm smile from a small Hispanic woman, "Ah, you must be Brad's friends." Sheppard and Carson both said hello, and she continued, "Please, come in; welcome. I am Carmen; my husband and I use to work for Brad's family. When Lorenzo retired, Brad helped us buy this place. We are honored to have friends of the Appell family stay with us. Come with me and I will show you to your rooms."

They followed her upstairs, to the third floor, where she showed them to separate rooms. "You are fortunate; starting from next weekend, the Labor Day holiday, we are booked through New Years. This week we purposely took only a few reservations in order to do some renovations. So we have this entire floor available. Please let me know if you need anything."

They were to meet in the lobby at 7:15, and everyone, save Rodney, was punctual. After a couple of minutes, Sheppard fumed, "I shouldn't have given him that damn pad back." He headed up the stairs.

Knocking on Rodney's door, he heard a distracted 'come in'. He opened the door slowly. "Rodney you better be ready. Come on, let's go." Peeking in, he saw Rodney sitting on the bed in his skivvies working on his pad. "Damn it, McKay, get dressed, we've got to leave."

"Just a minute, I just want to…" he stopped as Sheppard grabbed the pad from him, and then picked Rodney's slacks up off the chair. "Put these on and get down stairs; you can have the pad back in the car." Sheppard turned to leave, with Rodney muttering behind him.

"Sheppard, I am not a child, give me back my pad."

As he descended the stairs, he called back, "Then don't act like one." What Rodney couldn't see was the wide grin on Sheppard's face.

When Rodney arrived a few minutes later, he found that the others were in the SUV waiting for him. He got in the car, and Sheppard handed him the pad.

"Tell me we won't need to make a pit stop before we get to Brad's." Sheppard quipped as he pulled away.

"Bite me," he sneered, then when he heard the snickering from the back seat, he added, "all of you."

Beckett laughed, "Come on, Rodney; lighten up. We're on vacation, we are in a beautiful place, meeting nice people, and about to have a wonderful meal. You need to chill out."

"I would be 'chilled out' if you would all leave me alone."

By the time they arrived at Brad's house, Rodney had settled down, even joining in the conversation about staying the night in the area. After being buzzed through the gate, they drove down a landscaped driveway to a large two-story brick house. A tall young man around fifteen or so, was waiting and waved them around the house to a parking area on the side of the house. As they got out of the car, the youth approached the car.

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm Denny, welcome." He shook hands with Sheppard and then with the others. "My mom and dad are on the deck out back, follow me please."

Elaine Appell spotted them first, "John Sheppard. I never thought I would see you again." She met them at the top of the stairs and gave John a hug," Congrats, Shep, Brad told me about your promotion. That's great." She turned to greet the others, John making the introductions.

"Come on, let's get some wine for you, Brad brought some of the good stuff home." The attractive brunette led them to the bar. As everyone was beginning to relax, she walked over to Sheppard.

"Well, you're as handsome as ever, John." He blushed, and she continued, "And still embarrassed when someone pays you a compliment."

"Some things never changed, Lainey."

"And some things do, Brad heard a few years ago that you and Nancy divorced; I'm sorry, John. She was nice, I hate that it didn't work out for you. Some of my fondest memories are from that first year we all spent at Hurlburt."

"She wasn't like you, Lainey; she never understood what Brad and I did. You accepted that he couldn't tell you anything about his work, Nancy couldn't, or wouldn't."

"Don't think because I'm still here that I was always understanding, John. I wasn't; especially after Denny was born. Every time that damn phone would ring, and Brad would leave, I called the Air Force every vile name I could think of. But I figured out how to deal with the frustration; some people can't. Then once Lissa came along, I had too much to do to worry about it. We were just the lucky ones, John."

He smiled at her, "Yeah, you are. Speaking of Lissa, where is she? She's what, thirteen now?"

"Fourteen and Denny's sixteen, where does the time go? Lissa is on a school trip; her civics class has gone to Sacramento to intern with the legislature this week. I'm sorry that she wasn't here to see you."

The vintner for the winery, Douglas Scott, arrived. Immediately, Carson and Rodney were engrossed in conversation with the Scottish native. Ronon had struck up a conversation with Denny. From what Sheppard could hear, they were talking about karate, which Ronon was learning from one of the Marines. They sat around the table as Brad slaved over the grill, and Lainey brought out food from the house.

It wasn't long before Brad brought a platter of t-bone steaks to the table, he put a steak on everyone's plate, but when he got to Ronon, as he gave him two steaks. "Hey, I remember my appetite when I was your age; you get two." Everyone laughed and they spent the next hour eating as Brad and Sheppard exchanged stories from their days at the Air Force academy and their first tours of duty. As the sun set, the air became cooler and even the large fire-pit wasn't enough to keep them warm.

"Come on inside, guys, there's dessert." Lainey started clearing dishes with Denny and Carson's help. Carson had insisted, saying his "wee mother' would be upset if he didn't help.

The interior of the Appell home was warm and cozy, filled with family pictures. A photo on a shelf in a large bookcase caught Sheppard's eye. He walked over to get a closer look. Picking up the frame, he smiled; the photo was of Brad and him in Afghanistan. They were both SO pilots at the time, and had just returned from a mission. Sheppard chuckled to himself; they were young and carefree back then, thought they were invincible. Now he knew they were just lucky.

"Those were the days, weren't they Shep."

He turned to see Brad behind him, "Yeah. I sometimes wonder what happened to that John Sheppard."

"I was wondering that myself. You're different now; a good different, I think. You were always the best pilot, later the best covert operative around, but you pushed back hard against everyone. I suppose maturity has something to do with it; it certainly helped me.

"You saying I'm getting old?

Brad laughed, "Well, considering I am the same age as you, if you're getting old, I am, too. But you, I think it's more than maturity, something tells me you have seen a lot these last few years."

Sheppard didn't say anything. Brad watched him for a second, "Whatever it is that you do that has gotten you promoted to colonel, and allows you to have such an eclectic group of 'teammates,' I figure it must be pretty important."

"Eclectic, huh…I've heard them called a lot of things, but eclectic…that's a new one."

"Can't tell me, can you?"

"No; just another day in the Air Force." Sheppard looked back down at the picture.

"John."

Sheppard turned his head quickly toward Brad, he rarely called him anything but Shep. Hearing his friend use 'John' surprised him.

"Look, I know you are well aware that a lot of us were mad at you. But we weren't mad at what you did, but that you allowed yourself to be put in a position that jeopardized your career. That damn CO only wanted to cover his ass. He didn't care about those men or about you, just himself. Any other CO would have looked the other way, but then any other CO would have most likely ordered a rescue mission. It was a bad situation."

"Yeah, I know, but just so you know, I'd do all over again."

Brad shook his head, "That I don't doubt."

Lainey's head popped around the corner, "Guys, dessert's ready; come on."

Sheppard placed the picture back on the shelf and started to move toward the kitchen when Brad grabbed his arm. "You never knew that one of the reasons we were angry is that you didn't ask for help. If even one of us had gone with you, much less more of us, that bastard would have had to look the other way."

"I didn't want to risk ruining anyone else's career. Besides, I didn't think anyone would come with me."

"Shep, you never asked."

Staring at his friend, Sheppard felt his heart leap into his throat. "I…I'd still do it the same way, Brad. But I have learned a valuable lesson in the last few years. I have learned to trust people; I didn't before, even when I knew I could."

"That's the best lesson of all," he said quietly as he squeezed Sheppard's shoulder. "Now, let's go get dessert, Lainey made a couple of apple pies today. I think it's gonna work out to be one pie for Ronon and one for the rest of us to share."

After dessert, Carson and Rodney went to Douglas Scott's lab; Rodney anxious to see the chemistry behind wine making. Denny had gone upstairs early to study. Around 11:00 PM, Sheppard and Ronon left Brad and Lainey with a promise to return, and headed to pick up Carson and Rodney.

When they arrived at the main vineyard building, Ronon jumped out to round up the other two. He came to the door a couple of minutes later, motioning for Sheppard to come with him.

Sheppard caught up with him, "Why are you laughing?

"I think they have enjoyed themselves too much." He opened the door to the tasting room and Sheppard moaned.

"Oh no…" At one of the round tables near the bar, Carson, Rodney, and Douglas had all passed out; several empty bottles of wine sitting on the table. "Rodney sober is tough enough, but Rodney with a hangover, I don't even want to think about it. Come on, let's see if we can roust them."

It took some doing, but they managed to get them all awake. Douglas lived in an apartment above the wine tasting room, so Ronon made certain he got up the stairs and inside. He returned to help Sheppard get their teammates to the car.

As Ronon returned to the tasting room, Rodney was giggling. "Your hair is funny. Isn't his hair funny?" He turned his entire body toward Carson, who was sitting stiffly on the chair that Sheppard had sat him on three times.

"Ronon, get Rodney to the car; I'll get Carson."

It was a struggle, because Rodney wanted to help Sheppard with Carson and kept trying to get away from Ronon. Finally, they got their two inebriated teammates into the back seat of the SUV and strapped in.

When the SUV started moving, Carson became more alert, "Where am I?"

"In the car, Carson, we're headed for the B&B."

"Can ya keep the car straight, laddie. This weaving is making me sick."

"The road's straight Carson, you're the one weaving." Sheppard chuckled.

Ronon grinned, "This trip is going to be more fun than I thought."

"Not for those two."

They had just turned onto the main road when Carson groaned, "Colonel, stop; I'm gonna be sick."

Sheppard quickly pulled off the road, unlocked Carson's door and jumped out, yelling at Ronon to keep an eye on Rodney. As Sheppard rounded the back of the SUV, Carson had gotten the door open and was hanging out of the car, puking. Grabbing the doctor to steady him, he looked at Ronon, who had opened his door, "No, no fun at all."

~~ooOoo~~

Golden sunlight spilled through the sheer drapes into Sheppard's room as he slowly came awake. He stretched, taking a few minutes to enjoy the comfort of a big bed. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was 6:30 AM, much later than he usually slept. He decided it was the relaxing day, fresh air, and good food that allowed him to sleep. As he raised his head, and realized it was throbbing, he decided his long nap was probably due to the wine. Remembering the shape Carson and Rodney were in when they got back to the B&B, he decided he should get up and check on them.

Sheppard swung his long legs off the bed and forced himself to get up. As he headed for the bathroom, he thought about last night when they finally arrived and struggled to get Carson and Rodney to their rooms. He had taken care of Carson, while Ronon practically carried Rodney up the two flights of stairs. They had tried to be quiet, but Rodney was in a jovial mood. Rodney's chatter had awakened Lorenzo, who was kind enough to help Sheppard with Carson. Carmen had shown up with ginger ale and apple juice, telling Sheppard they took care of a lot of guests who overindulged in wine tasting.

He splashed water on his face, deciding what he needed was a long run and a long hot shower, and he would feel much better. He grabbed his running clothes, dressed, then searched the floor for the shoes he had kicked off last night. Grabbing a water bottle from the mini-refrigerator, he headed out, after peeking into Rodney and Carson's rooms. Both men were sleeping soundly.

Walking out onto the veranda, Sheppard smiled. Nothing like a morning in California, the hills were golden in the morning sun. Groves of green trees scattered across the hills, looked like emeralds against the gold. He started down the steps when he was startled by a voice behind him.

"I was about to give up on you, thought you were going to sleep all morning."

He turned to see Ronon sprawled across one of the wicker settees. He grinned, "You running or not?" Sheppard bolted down the remaining steps and took off. Within a couple of seconds, Ronon ran past him.

They ran down the lane away from the house, through what seemed to be endless miles of grapevines. Sheppard sprinted ahead once or twice, but Ronon with his longer legs always overtook him. They ran for a long time, and it was nearly 8:00 AM when they returned to the house.

As they stepped on the porch, Carmen brought out a tray with a carafe of coffee, cups, and a plate of pastries. "I saw you boys coming back down the lane from the vineyards, thought you might like some coffee." She sat the tray down on a small table between two chairs.

"Thank you, coffee and something in my stomach sounds really good right now."

"I thought it would. Don't worry about your friends, I checked on them, and took juice and rolls to them. The best I can say for them right now is that they are breathing, but they'll recover." She left them alone to enjoy breakfast.

Sheppard poured coffee and held up the pot toward Ronon, "Want some?"

Ronon smiled, holding up a Mountain Dew. "Carmen keeps a supply of these here; her son loves Dew. I will have a couple of those," he said as he grabbed a couple of pastries.

Chuckling, Sheppard said, "Yeah, like I wasn't expecting that."

They ate in silence, just enjoying the morning. Ronon was chewing on his fourth cinnamon roll, when he finally spoke, "Sheppard, this doesn't seem right."

"What doesn't seem right?"

"You know."

Sheppard rubbed his eyes, "Yeah, I know, we seem to be a team member short. Ronon; Teyla wanted to go home. She didn't want Kanaan wondering if she and Torren were dead or alive. Besides, her people are stranded on New Lantia without a stargate. They're going to need supplies. You can't blame her."

"I don't. I just wish we had all gone back at the same time."

"Look, we didn't think anyone was going to be able to go back. I pretty sure Sam put pressure on O'Neill to make this happen, so that Teyla could go home. O'Neill put pressure on the IOA to request the mission. Daedalus was ordered to go back to Pegasus to assess status of the Wraith after we left. Landry just made certain there were lots of supplies on board."

"We should have gone with her."

"Ronon, you could have; I told you that." Sheppard was beginning to feel uncomfortable, this was not a subject he wanted to rehash.

"But since none of the rest of you could go; I wasn't going either."

"Yeah, big guy, I know that. We're all glad you stayed."

"But you are certain we are going home. I mean I know it's not your home, but…"

"Atlantis and Pegasus are home to me, to Rodney, to nearly everyone assigned to Atlantis."

"But your planet is so beautiful, why don't you want to stay?"

Sheppard didn't say anything for a bit and Ronon waited him out. Sheppard poured more coffee, took a sip, and replied, "This is a beautiful place, but I don't feel like I belong anymore. Maybe it's the gene and the connection I have with Atlantis, but I…I'd just rather be there."

"And we are returning."

"Yes, we will return."

"That's good enough for me. I'm going to take a shower."

Grabbing another roll, Ronon went inside, leaving Sheppard alone on the porch. He drank more coffee and leaned back in the chair. Only one thought in his head, "We are going home; I promise."

Sheppard headed upstairs about fifteen minutes later, showered and packed up his stuff. Ronon was already downstairs when he came down, as were a groggy Rodney and Carson. They were sitting at a table in the dining area; heads hung down over coffee mugs, two empty water bottles sitting on the table.

Sheppard grinned, "Well, look who's up. How's the hangover?" He sat down, waiting for an answer.

"Bite me," surprisingly came from Carson and not Rodney.

"That bad, huh?"

"Sheppard…go away…leave us to our misery," that from Rodney.

"Sorry, can't do that; it's nearly 10 am and I want to be on the road soon. You guys need to get a move on. Ronon and I are going back to the vineyard to pick up some wine." At the word wine, both men shuddered and Sheppard repressed a laugh. "I think Woolsey will enjoy Appell Lane's wine. So, be ready to leave when we get back." He got up and as he walked past Rodney, gave him a slap on the back. All he heard from Rodney was a deep groan.

He and Ronon stopped by the winery, gassed up the Rover, and then returned for their buddies. After thanking Carmen and Lorenzo and insisting that the couple accepted payment for their stay, the four men piled into the Range Rover.

"So, where the hell are we going today," the shaky voice belonged to Rodney.

"We are headed over to Sacramento, then down Highway 99 through the Central Valley farm country. We're stopping in Bakersfield tonight, and tomorrow on to Las Vegas."

Rodney groaned.

* * *

_Notes:_

So….are you having fun yet? I would love to hear from you!

Thanks for reading!

Part Two will be posted with in a couple of days…


	2. Part 2  Bakersfield Bound

**Title:** **Road Trip**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: **Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

**Word Count: **Part 2 Bakersfield Bound 7,974

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language, whump

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **As I complete a segment of the trip, I will add it to this post and mark it complete, until I update it again. Most of the genres listed above will be in each segment, but Part One is more getting into the groove of the trip. Part Two…gets a bit more interesting (some action). I hope you enjoy…I really have had fun writing this.

**

* * *

**

* * *

ROAD TRIP

_by stella_pegasi_

**Part Two Bakersfield Bound**

Sheppard was daydreaming. Well, if forced to, he would admit he wasn't daydreaming; he had virtually stopped thinking at all. He had always loved to drive, and he was in tune with the car, the road, and the traffic. Any thoughts that drifted into his mind seemed to float away just as quickly.

A little over two hours had passed since they left Sonoma, and they traveled through communities deep in the Central Valley area. There were miles of farmland flashing past as they headed down Highway 99. Truckloads of fresh fruits and vegetables seemed to be emerging from every side road.

Ronon had been quiet for most of the trip; they were trying to keep from waking up the still hung-over Rodney and Carson. Both remained a bit queasy, and had fallen asleep as soon as Sheppard had pulled away from the B&B. Sheppard tuned the satellite radio to smooth jazz station to keep the music mellow, and to drown out Carson's snoring. As they passed a sign announcing the entrance to yet another mega-farm, Ronon finally spoke.

"Sheppard, there's so much food grown here, but you told us once that people go hungry here. I don't get it. There's enough food in those fields to feed all of Sateda, and there were a lot of people there."

"That's a good question. There really isn't an excuse; we're capable of producing enough food to feed the hungry but…" he sighed. "It doesn't seem right that anyone should go hungry, but they do. I think it's the politicians…too busy worrying about themselves and not about the people."

Ronon grunted, "I know about that. The government officials on Sateda abandoned the people in the end; to save themselves. I guess they are the same everywhere."

"C…colonel?" A muddled voice asked.

"Carson, you finally decide to join us?"

"Barely, lad; I need something to drink, water or juice. Any chance we could stop for some juices?"

Sheppard smiled, "Yeah; I think we can do that; we're almost in Modesto. There's water in the cooler right behind your seat, if you want."

They drove on for a mile or so when Sheppard spotted a strip mall, "Juice coming up, Carson."

"Thanks."

"I want coffee, Sheppard." Rodney uttered in a gravely voice.

"No more coffee, it'll just dehydrate you more…you need water or juice. Here." Carson retrieved another bottle from the cooler and handed it to Rodney.

"How ya feeling, buddy?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney groaned, and Ronon turned to look at him. He looked back at Sheppard, "They look pretty green." He was grinning.

Sheppard pulled off Highway 99, onto a busy commercial street on the fringes of Modesto. He parked and went inside a grocery store, grabbing bottles of apple and cranberry juice, along with some cookies from the bakery. He took those back to the car, then walked across the parking lot to a Starbucks for coffee. Returned to the SUV with two tall cups, he handed one to Ronon, and then passed out the cookies.

"Here's a cookie to tide you over; Brad told me about a diner on the other side of Modesto. It's supposed to serve the best hamburgers in California; nothing like a greasy hamburger when you've got a hangover."

He waited for an answer and when he didn't get one, Sheppard looked at Ronon. "No snarky or cheeky comments from the back seat? Ummm…they are in bad shape."

Ronon was staring at the paper cup in his hand. It was filled with frothy foam, "What's this?"

"I don't know, some kind of mocha caramel latte thing, since you aren't overly fond of coffee, thought you might like that. It's sweet."

Ronon took a drink, then nodded in approval, taking an even bigger sip. When he looked back at Sheppard, his upper lip was covered in white foam and he was grinning, "That's good."

Sheppard laughed. "OK, next stop, lunch."

Reaching over to flip on the GPS, he punched Meg's Diner into the GPS, and a female voice came on giving directions. He wasn't surprised when Rodney commented.

"Finally decide that you needed help finding your way around?"

"Well, since my unofficial navigator took himself out by drinking too much, I decided I would use the GPS. I want to make certain that we find the diner quickly; I think you two need some food."

"Yeah…whatever. I want that coffee and some aspirin."

Carson sniped back, "I told you no, drink your water and juice…all of it. No aspirin for you right now…all you need is fluid."

After passing through Modesto, they followed the GPS directions off of Highway 99 and soon Meg's Diner loomed into view. Sheppard pulled in, finding a parking place near the door.

"Colonel, can you open the boot?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard popped the rear hatch door and got out of the car, opening Rodney's door.

"Come on, time to start moving around; it'll be good for you." Rodney frowned, but got out of the car.

Carson reached for his medical kit, and pulled out a bottle of dark red pills. He downed a couple, then called to Rodney, "Here, take these, super strong vitamins; they'll help."

Rodney took the pills from Carson, "If it helps my head, anything."

It was shortly after 1:00 PM, and the diner was crowded. They waited for booth being cleaned about half-way down the aisle along the counter. When the bus boy finished, Rodney started to slide along the bench seat first, until Carson stopped him.

"I think it would be better if we sat on the outside; not sure if I'm ready for lunch or not."

Sheppard grimaced, "Sounds like a good idea."

Grabbing a menu, Sheppard remarked, as he looked at the offerings, "Man, been a long time since I have seen a menu like this. Look at this, 'Fried Chili Fries'; French fries, smothered in chili and cheese with a fried egg on top…yummy."

"That's good?" Ronon asked.

"Yeah, Chewie, it's good; it's not good for you, but it's good."

A woman, dressed in a waitress outfit right out of the fifties, walked up. "Hi, boys. What can I get for ya."

Sheppard grinned, "Put this on one tab, please. I'd like a Big Burger with cheese and fries. For the big guy here, bring him the same and an order of the Fried Chili Fries. Water for me and Mountain Dew for him. Carson, Rodney?"

Carson quietly said, " A cheeseburger, and water." Rodney mumbled the same.

As Carson reached in his pocket for his sunglasses, the waitress asked Sheppard, "Looks like your buddies must have had a good time last night."

Sheppard laughed, "Yeah, they did."

Carson dropped his head into his hands, "What the hell was I thinking?"

"Yeah, well, you were the one who said kept saying how great the wine was, and your buddy just kept bringing more bottles out. Just another taste, you kept saying. You weren't thinking. I should have been." Rodney sighed deeply, laying his head back against the high back of the booth seat.

"Hey, don't beat yourselves up, guys. You're on vacation. You should relax and let your hair down, enjoy life." Sheppard said.

"I am not enjoying this." Rodney replied.

"I am," Ronon quipped, eliciting a glare from Sheppard. "What? They're funny; like you've never been hung over, Sheppard."

"Yeah, I have; that's why it's not funny." As he looked at Carson sitting next to him and Rodney across the table, both looking miserable, he added, "Well, not too funny."

The waitress brought their food, and as they ate, Rodney and Carson became more and more alert. Fluids and food in their stomachs seemed to chase the cobwebs away. Sheppard knew that the telltale sign they were feeling better was when the bickering began.

"Rodney; stop complaining. I didn't force ya to drink."

"No, you just insisted that we try every type of wine they made. You were having way too much fun with your Scottish buddy."

"You; you kept asking Douglas all those technical details about the chemistry of making wine. He was bringing out bottles to show ya how doing this or that changed the flavors."

"I was just tasting, but you…you were chugging back the wine like it was water."

"That wine didn't drink itself. I…"

"OK, boys, enough; you both drank too much, and you only have yourself to blame. I told you to stop beating yourselves up over it. You're supposed to be relaxing, and for once, it's nice to be able to do so without worrying about what's over our shoulder. Now hush."

Carson stared at Sheppard for a moment, "It was fun, despite getting trashed. Your friends are good people, col…John. It was a good day; if it didn't end well, that's our own fault."

"Come on, let's get on the road; we have another four hours or so before we reach Bakersfield." Sheppard paid the bill, and they piled back into the car. After stopping to fill the SUV with gas, Sheppard headed south down Highway 99.

~~ooOoo~~

"Hey, Sheppard, is this all you do on this planet…eat?"

Sheppard looked over at Ronon, who was devouring an extra-large, chocolate-dipped, soft serve ice cream cone. About three times bigger than the cone he and Beckett had gotten. They had just exited the drive-through at a Dairy Queen, and were back on Highway 99, about an hour from Bakersfield.

"No, we do other things, but I guess when cooped up in a car with nothing better to do, food is a way to pass the time."

"This is good." Ronon mumbled.

"Sheppard, why are we staying in Bakersfield? I figured you be pushing to reach Vegas." He was sucking on a straw stuck in a large strawberry milkshake.

"You in a hurry, McKay?"

"It's Bakersfield, what the hell is there in Bakersfield?"

"I don't want to rush this trip. We have no reason to push; we have a month before we have to return to Atlantis. Let's just kick back and enjoy ourselves. We haven't been able to do that in a long time."

"Bakersfield…they sing country music there." Rodney whined.

"Watch it, McKay…"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot; the great Johnny Cash is a country singer," Rodney snarked.

Sheppard was about to snark back when he noticed the eighteen-wheeler behind him was beginning to swerve into the left lane. The large truck nearly hit a car that was speeding past in the left lane. The car sped by them so fast that the Rover shuddered in the concussion of wind.

"What the hell?" McKay yelled.

Sheppard didn't answer; he was busy watching the truck that was still weaving erratically behind him. In the rear view mirror, he could see the driver's face, but couldn't tell if the driver's expression was one of anger or panic. He pressed the gas pedal down to put some distance between the Range Rover and the truck.

"Sheppard, watch out!" Ronon had turned around to see what was behind them, noticing movement along the shoulder of the road. First, one large motorcycle emerged from beside the truck, then two more; they were racing toward the Rover.

As Ronon was warning him about the motorcycles coming up on his right, he saw the front of another pulling around the truck. Within seconds, at least seven bikes were surrounding them, weaving back and forth around their vehicle.

Sheppard had two concerns, other than keeping his friends safe; one, whether the truck behind him was going to remain in control, and the other was the fact that they were coming up on a group of slower moving cars and produce trucks. The car that had sped past them earlier was now caught at the back of the pack, trying to force his way through.

"Guys, tell me you have your seat belts on; this could get ugly." Sheppard didn't look around; he didn't dare take his eyes off the road. "Ronon; now might be a good time to get those guns from the glove compartment."

A huge, powerful motorcycle pulled up next to him, and Sheppard made eye contact with the large, goateed man sitting astride it. The guy appeared as big as Ronon and clearly had the intention of running them off the road. He kept nudging the big cycle toward the SUV, eventually starting to ram into the drivers' door and front fender. Sheppard quickly jerked the wheel to the left and caught the cycle's front wheel, sending it careening toward the median. The bike wobbled wildly, but the rider got it back under control.

"Crap, I think I only made him mad."

A bump from behind and he saw two bikes pushing up against the bumper. Through the roar from the motorcycles, he could hear Rodney calling 911. He seriously considered slamming on the brakes, but those motorcycles were powerful. Together they might have enough force to push the Range Rover out of control. At the speeds they were traveling, it was a chance he couldn't take.

"Guys, we are going to have some problems in a couple of minutes, once we catch up with those cars and trucks. These guys are having fun, scaring everyone; they're gonna want to cause as much havoc as they can. They won't care if they cause a wreck; I think they'd like it."

"Sheppard, I called 911. They're dispatching CHP and local units."

Sheppard only nodded as they caught up with the traffic in front of them. The cycles, he now counted at least twelve of them, began to weave in and out of the cars and trucks. A couple of cars tried to pull off the road, but were cut off by several bikes. One car recovered and got back onto the road, but the other lost control. His front tires caught the guardrail, jumped the barricade, and rolled down the embankment.

Beckett called out, "Colonel, we need to stop. They could be injured."

"We can't, not yet, Carson. Rodney let 911 know…"

They were bumped from behind, then from the right rear corner, sending the Range Rover into the left lane. Sheppard struggled with the wheel, but managed to straighten the vehicle, keeping it on the road. He heard the sound of hydraulic brakes and the squealing of tires behind him. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he saw the eighteen-wheeler careening out of control. The truck slid off the road, slamming into the center median guardrail, which was not tall enough to slow the momentum of the large truck. It toppled onto its side and continued to slide along the metal railing. From behind the truck, at least five more bikes appeared and quickly joined their fellow riders who were beginning to torment the pack of vehicles in front of them.

It didn't take long for what Sheppard feared would happen, to happen. A car, driven by a young driver, lost control, and slammed nto a produce truck that ran off the road, spilling its load of cantaloupes. The hard fruit began bouncing across the highway; two more cars struck each other and the melee began. Only luck and skill kept Sheppard from wrecking the SUV. He slid to a stop along the edge of the road, only feet from a paneled van that had struck one of the motorcycles.

"Ronon, with me. You two, stay in the car until I tell you it's OK."

Ronon handed Sheppard his weapon, and they exited the car, hurrying toward the van, to check on its occupants. Sheppard had just reached the van when Ronon yelled, "Behind you.'

Most of the motorcycles had continued on, harassing the pack of cars and trucks, but two of them stayed back, apparently targeting Sheppard and Ronon. Both bikes were heading toward them at a high rate of speed.

Tires, hit the tires," Sheppard yelled. He and Ronon took aim and within seconds, the bikes were on their sides, sliding along the roadway, riders tumbling along beside them.

As the dust and noise settled, Sheppard heard sirens in the background and spotted the red and blue lights of the police and EMT units heading their way.

Carson and Rodney had jumped from the Rover, Carson grabbing his med kit. Sheppard and Ronon checked on the motorcyclists; both were alive but injured.

Two CHP motorcycle officers skidded to a stop, along with an ambulance. Sheppard told Ronon, "Put your gun on the ground and step away from it." When Ronon hesitated, Sheppard growled, "Do it, they'll ask questions _after_ they shoot us, if you don't. Keep your hands away from your body."

The CHP's approached, guns drawn but not raised; one asked, "Who are you?"

"Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force; this is Ronon Dex, civilian contractor." He pointed to Carson and Rodney, "That's Dr. Carson Beckett, medical doctor, and Dr. Rodney McKay, scientist. They're also civilian contractors with the Air Force."

"Those weapons, yours?"

Sheppard nodded, "The permits are in the car; can I get my ID out?" The officer nodded and Sheppard handed over his ID to the officer, while the other officer retrieved the weapons.

The CHP officer relaxed, "Seems to be in order, but we'll just keep the weapons for a minute. I'm Sergeant Harper; out here on Air Force business, colonel?"

"No, sergeant, we're on leave, headed for Vegas; wasn't expecting this."

"We've been getting reports all day about this gang. The bikes all have Montana and Idaho tags. I think they are some kind of militia group, not just a regular motorcycle gang or club, most of them are non-violent. These bastards have been damn good about eluding us; this is the first time that any of them have been caught. Tell me what happened."

As Sheppard recounted the events, more police and ambulances arrived. Carson began to assist with triage, while the CHP took statements from Ronon and Rodney. It was an hour later, before the CHP officer released them.

"We were lucky, got some badly injured civilians but no deaths. However, we only caught five of them; the rest are still out there roaming around." He shook Sheppard's hand, "Colonel, there's another accident scene about a mile and a half down the road, be careful. I've radioed ahead, so they'll let you through. Keep on the lookout, the rest of them got away again."

As Sheppard and the others headed for the SUV, the officer added, "Colonel, Dex, that was some damn good shooting to take those bikes down. Thanks for helping us get those guys off the roads." Sheppard threw up his hand in reply, and they got into the SUV.

Ronon secured the weapons in the glove compartment, and Sheppard pulled back on to the road. None of them spoke until they had cleared the second accident scene. There were still several ambulances, fire and police units working the site, at least seven cars had been involved in the crash and one bike.

As they resumed normal speed, the road in front of them was deserted with all the traffic blocked behind them. Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror to see Carson still looking behind them at the fading lights.

"Carson, those people are in good hands; you did all you could."

"Well, I don't feel that way. I should have stayed and helped."

Rodney glanced at his friend, "Sheppard's right; you did enough. Those guys will take care of the injured."

"Well, I know I could use a drink." Carson muttered.

Sheppard chuckled, "Hair of the dog?"

"Something like that, my nerves are shattered."

Sheppard shook his head, "You don't flinch when the Wraith come knocking, but a gang of bikers sets you off. Well, don't feel like the lone ranger, I could use a drink, too. Let's get through Bakersfield, find a hotel, then go get some steaks or ribs and relax."

"More food…" Ronon pondered, then grinned, "Yeah; I can do that."

Sheppard wanted to make a straight run to Vegas the next morning, so they drove through Bakersfield before finding a hotel. They checked into a nice hotel off the main road. Retiring to their respective rooms, they agreed to meet in the lobby in thirty minutes. As usual, they were all on time, except for Rodney.

Sheppard, who was sprawled across a small couch, sighed and started to get up. "I'll go get him."

Ronon, however, was quicker. "No, I'll get him," and he headed for the elevator. About five minutes later, he came down with a pissed off Rodney in tow.

"You," he pointed to Sheppard, "had to send Conon for me. He damn near broke my door down."

Sheppard was still sprawled on the couch, "I don't know about you, Carson, but I think McKay could have used more time."

Carson smiled, "Yes, John. I believe you are right. I think he needed more time to dress. Rodney, where the hell do you get those shirts?"

"Har de har har, like you look like some kind of fashion plate. That goes double for 'Mr. Rumpled Shirt' over there; he certainly looks like he stepped off the pages of GQ, not. Come on, let's go get something to eat, I'm starved."

Rodney stalked out of the entrance, Carson right behind him. As Sheppard walked out with Ronon, he remarked, "What the hell's wrong with my shirt?" Ronon just slapped him on the shoulder, and headed for the Range Rover.

Sheppard had asked at the front desk for a good steakhouse, and was given directions to a roadhouse that the desk clerk said had the best steaks in Bakersfield. About twenty minutes later, and one wrong turn, which Rodney snarked about, they pulled into a crowded parking lot surrounding a large rough wood building sporting a large bright neon sign that said 'Roadhouse'.

"See, the food must be great, let's go in."

"Sheppard, that place has to be full of cowboys. We are so gonna get killed."

"McKay, shut up," Ronon grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the Rover.

They walked into a lively, crowded restaurant with a stage and a dance floor. To Rodney's surprise, the patrons were young and old, some in suits, some in blue jeans, several families having dinner. There were screens everywhere showing sports, old movies, and cartoons; beer was flowing, but the atmosphere had a fun vibe about it.

"See, not so bad, Rodney; not bad at all." Sheppard grinned as a hostess led them to an oversized booth toward the back of the room. They ordered a couple of pitchers of beer from their server, whose name was Chris.

When Chris returned with the beer and four frosty mugs, Beckett asked, "Laddie, do ya have live music here at night?"

"Yes, sir; we have a band that plays starting at 10, most of the families have left by then but sometimes, some with older kids stay and let their kids dance. It's a fun place but still OK for kids to hang around. We don't even have security here. Now, guys, made up your mind what you want?"

After Chris took their orders, Sheppard poured beer for everyone. He laughed as he saw Rodney pick up the mug, gazing at the frothy beer with suspicion. "That beer isn't going to attack you, Rodney."

Rodney looked over at Sheppard, "I…I…that's what I thought about the wine last night. I'm not so sure about this…"

"You don't have to drink it, Rodney." Beckett quipped, then downed a big gulp from his mug.

"Carson's right, you don't have to drink. But if you do, just take it slow."

As they waited for their food, they ate from the large popcorn bowl on the table and talked about the last twenty-four hours. They agreed that their wine country visit, sans the over imbibing, had been a lot of fun.

"Well, this afternoon wasn't fun; those bikers were a piece of work." Beckett remarked.

Ronon was on his second mug of beer, "Somebody acting like that on…" he caught himself before he said Sateda, "at home, would be severely dealt with."

Sheppard answered, "We are a nation of laws, and there was certainly more than enough evidence to put the guys they captured in jail for a long time. I would imagine the local police departments and California Highway Patrol are looking for the others."

"The reason you had to send Conon after me was that I was watching a local news update on the accidents. Good news, there were some serious injuries but no one was killed. Bad news, they only caught three of them, the rest are still out there roaming around."

"Well, I imagine they high-tailed it out of this area since the cops are searching. So at least, we won't have to deal with them again." Sheppard leaned back in the curve of the booth, beer in hand. He was beginning to feel the events of the afternoon fade away.

"I'm thankful no one died because of those buggers." Beckett replied.

Sheppard nodded, "It was hairy there for a few minutes, but the good thing is that we got through it, and we are having a nice dinner in a nice place, far away from those bastards."

"Speaking of food," Ronon grinned and pointed to two servers carrying large trays of food, heading their way. He punched Sheppard in the arm, "I'm beginning to like it here." Ronon's enthusiasm, a rarity for him, set off laughter by his teammates.

They ate, drank more beer, and laughed as Beckett regaled them with stories of his college days, and his nights at the local pubs.. They had just finished their meal when the band took the stage. The music was classic Bakersfield country, but even Rodney seemed to be enjoying the band.

Sheppard had stretched his long legs out underneath the large table. He felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. On Atlantis, even in those rare times when events were mundane, he could never completely unwind. There were simply too many souls he was responsible for to allow himself to relax, even a bit. Here, however, he finally felt he could just kick-back and enjoy the evening. He had been scanning the crowd, which had thinned out considerably. It was a Tuesday night, so probably not the busiest night for the roadhouse. He was content to watch the few patrons that were dancing, and listen to the music. What he was enjoying the most, however, was hearing his teammate's laugh.

At least, he was enjoying himself until the little hairs on the back of his neck began to stand-up. His spidy sense was kicking into high gear. Any thoughts of relaxation went out the door, as he noticed a group of rough looking characters walk into the main dining hall. He felt the adrenaline begin to flow, as he realized the new arrivals appeared to be bikers.

Carson was sitting on the outside of the booth across from Ronon. Sheppard sat up and reached over to tap Carson's arm. When the doctor looked around at him, his expression changed from happy to concern as he saw the look on Sheppard's face.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Carson, Chris is over at that table near the stage, Go tell him to call the police and let the manager know there's about to be trouble. Then get behind the stage, out of the way."

"Trouble, what kind of trouble, colonel?" Carson whispered as he slipped out of the booth.

Sheppard took a deep breath, "The biker kind."

He silently cursed; their guns were locked in the car. He was beginning to think that he should have let Ronon bring his blaster. Ronon….he smiled slightly, Ronon was bound to have a few knives on his person.

"Chewie, got a spare knife or two?"

Ronon turned toward him, "What do you think, Sheppard?" He slipped a fairly large knife into Sheppard's hand. He then slipped another, smaller knife to Rodney.

Rodney stared at the knife, then picked it up, tucking it under his jacket. "You think there's going to be trouble?"

"Yeah, I thi…," that was as far as he got before the first scream erupted.

Sheppard counted about twelve bikers; five of them had entered and headed directly for the center of the room. The others were drifting around the perimeter. They were picking up beer mugs and pitchers, and grabbing food from plates. They were also beginning to harass the women at the tables. One very large biker, jerked a teenager from her chair, sat down in it himself, then pulled her into his lap. Sheppard could sense Ronon tense like a coiled spring. He reached out, placing his hand on Ronon's forearm.

"Not yet, let's see what they have planned, the longer they go without noticing us, the sooner we'll have backup from the cops."

"Sheppard, I'm not going to let them hurt those girls." Ronon's voice was full of barely controlled rage.

"Neither am I, just be patient. If they look like they are going to harm anyone, we make ourselves known."

Glancing over at Rodney, he was pleased to see that his friend didn't look frightened.

Rodney was tense, but composed. It amazed Sheppard how much he now trusted Rodney to watch his back. He was about to tell Rodney to stay in the background, when the father of the teenager loudly demanded the biker let his daughter go.

Their vantage point didn't give them a straight visual line to the young girl, but from what he could tell, the biker had decided to nibble on the girl's neck. When the father interceded, the biker stood up, dropping the girl to the floor, and backhanded the father sending him spinning to the floor. The girl's mother had grabbed her daughter, attempting to pull her away. Sheppard didn't have time to react, before Ronon was out of the booth.

"Let her go!" The Satedan rushed toward the table, but two of the large bikers attacked him, slamming Ronon to the floor. Sheppard jumped up and Rodney followed.

"Hey come on, let's just take it easy here. No need for anyone to get hurt."

Sheppard slowly approached the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney nudge closer to where the two bikers were pining Ronon to the floor. He was pretty certain that Rodney was planning something. He just didn't know what.

One of the bikers, a tall, rough looking guy, covered in tattoos, walked over to Sheppard.

"So, pretty boy, you and this…this…funny-haired fag over here, think you're going to stop us? I don't think so. We came to Southern California to have some fun, and we are going to have some fun."

"Why don't you let these people go, then you can have the place and all the beer for yourself."

"Really, you think we're just gonna allow these fine people to leave. Fuck, no; we want to party with them." He grabbed a server around the neck, "Go get us pitchers of beer, now," he pulled a large knife from underneath his vest, "or I'll have to mark you." He pushed the young man away from him.

Another of the bikers had walked up to them, eyeing Sheppard closely. "Son of a bitch, Rich. This is the asshole that ran me off the road this afternoon. I remember him. He had on shades, but I'd know that sissy hair any day. You nearly caused me to wreck my ride, you son of a bitch." He took a swing at Sheppard and although Sheppard reacted quickly, the man's huge fist made contact with his left jaw. He was propelled into a table and slid across the top, plates, glasses and silverware scattering in all directions. He rolled his body as he dropped off the table, managing to get to his knees in time to see Rodney put his plan in action.

Rodney had snuck behind the two men holding onto Ronon. Along the way, he had picked up two of the heavy metal water pictures from the server station nearby. As Sheppard pulled himself to his feet, Rodney struck the two bikers over the head with the pitchers, sending both to the floor, allowing Ronon to escape their grasp.

Sheppard skirted the table, motioning for the people at the surrounding tables to move away. His eyes were fixed on the biker that had struck him. The bastard had his foot on the back of the teenager's mother, pinning her to the floor.

"Some, big brave guy you are. What a conquest, pinning a 100 pound woman to the floor." He scoffed, "Why don't you take on someone your own size, or are you chicken?"

The rough biker was pissed, "You little sissy; I'll kill you." He rushed Sheppard, slamming into him and they both fell to the floor. Sheppard was smaller than the biker, who was about Ronon's size, but he was more agile. The biker's momentum caused him to roll a bit when he hit the floor, and Sheppard managed to slip from under the heavier man. He jumped up and quickly spun around, kicking the man in the stomach. He hoped to knock the air out of him and keep him down for a few moments.

Ronon had tackled two other bikers, who rushed him when their comrades fell. He took one down with a blow to the face, and had the other's arm pinned behind him. He whispered to the biker. "How do you like picking on someone your size? He squeezed the man's throat until he passed out. Ronon dropped him to the floor and turned in time to see Sheppard kick the goateed biker, then get struck from behind with a large serving tray wielded by another biker. He moved to help Sheppard when he heard a cry behind him. He whipped around to see Rodney take a punch to the stomach and double over.

Jumping over a chair, Ronon body slammed the biker who hit Rodney, and they went careening into the stage. Pulling the guy up, Ronon threw a hard punch into the guy's face. Blood began flowing from the guy's nose and Ronon loosened his grip on the biker letting him fall to the floor.

Sheppard was stunned momentarily; the tray had struck him in the back of the head causing him to black out for a second. He was lying on the floor when his attacker grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up.

"So, sissy boy, think you can take me on, now." He twisted Sheppard's arm behind him.

"Y-yeah, I do." Sheppard jerked his body down and spun, gaining just enough leverage to swing the biker over his shoulder and to the floor. The biker hit his head on the edge of a table as he went down, knocking him unconscious.

As he straightened up, Sheppard could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background. It wouldn't be long until help arrived. As he tried to take a deep breath, he felt pain in his right side. He had hit a chair when he fell, bruising his ribs. He paused for a second to get oriented.

All around Sheppard, the patrons had begun to take on the bikers. Near the entrance, three men, two servers and a diner had one of the bikers pinned to the floor; another biker lay unconscious next to them. The mother of the teenage girl, who had been accosted, broke a glass pitcher of beer over the head of one of the bikers, who was punching on her husband. He continued to gaze around the room until he spotted the biker he thought was the leader. The bastard was standing in the center of the dance floor, his arm around one of the female servers, a knife to her throat.

The rest of the room faded from Sheppard's perception. The biker could hear the sirens as well as he could, and realized that things were quickly going south. The out-of-control bikers had been looking for a fight all day, now they had one. Sheppard took a step toward the man.

"Let her go."

The biker laughed, "Nah…I like this one. I think I'll take her with me; she's hot." He ran his free hand along her chest. The young woman was staring at Sheppard; fear frozen on her face.

"She's not going with you; I'm not going let that happen. Let her go."

Ronon was about to head to Sheppard's side when he saw Rodney, who had gotten to his feet, was about to be hit from behind again. He yelled for McKay to look out, knowing he probably couldn't get to the scientist in time. He braced for the blow that the biker was about to deliver when the biker was stopped suddenly by a large metal trash can coming down on his head. The biker fell, unconscious, knocking Rodney over. Ronon grinned, as an angry Carson Beckett, holding the trash can, looked over at him. Carson dropped the can and helped Rodney to his feet.

Ronon turned toward Sheppard, but he didn't get very far before he felt the sharp edge of a blade slide across his upper right arm. Warm blood began to trickle down his arm from a deep slice along his bicep. He slipped a large knife from its sheath on his belt, and wheeled around, the knife sinking into the biker's side. He tried to keep from hitting anything vital, knowing Sheppard would prefer they didn't kill anyone. The biker stumbled backward. A couple of the band members jumped down from the stage, holding the biker down. Ronon concentrated on Sheppard, as Carson began to administer aid to the stabbed biker.

Sheppard took a step toward the biker and his hostage. "Come on, you don't want to hurt her, you want to hurt me."

"That's where you're wrong, asshole. I want to do both."

The sirens were so close that Sheppard was certain the police would burst through the doors any minute. He could tell the biker knew that as well, the resolve in the man's eyes was clear. He was going to go down fighting. Sheppard wasn't going to let him take the girl with him.

Noticing Ronon slowly entering his vision periphery, he formulated a plan; hoping that Ronon would catch on. He started slowly edging toward the biker.

"Come on, let's finish this. Let her go. I'll fight you. You're bigger than me; guess you must outweigh me by fifty pounds. You can take me. Well, you can try. Let her go."

It was working. Sheppard saw the biker's grip on the girl loosen. The knife was no longer pressed against the girl's throat. If he, and Ronon, timed it right, they could end this.

Sheppard's hand drifted toward the knife tucked in his belt, all the while keeping the biker's eyes locked on his. When he thought that Ronon was close enough, he smiled at the biker.

"I gave you a chance; you didn't take it. Sorry…."

With that, he whipped the knife up and lunged at the biker. The biker instinctively raised his knife in Sheppard's direction, releasing the young woman. Ronon quickly snatched her away to safety. Sheppard continued to rush forward, intending to knock the biker to the floor. He was focused and had suppressed the din of noise around him. He could hear the welcoming sound of the police bursting into the room. It was over, just take this bastard down, and it was over.

However, the biker had other ideas. He lunged at Sheppard; holding his knife in front of him. Sheppard attempted to block the knife with his left arm, but the biker's weight hit him, and they went down. He felt the knife that he was holding sink into the biker's abdomen before he lost his grip on the handle. He was pinned to the floor until Ronon pulled the biker off of him, and pulled him to his feet.

"Sheppard, you OK?"

Ronon's voice sounded far away. He tried to focus on the Satedan, but was having difficulty doing so. He had a sensation of warm fluid trickling down his side and he gingerly touched the area. Pulling his hand back, it was covered with blood. He raised his head toward Ronon, as the room began to fade to black, and he started to sink to the floor again. He uttered one word, "Crap."

~~ooOoo~~

The familiar soft cadence of the monitors surrounding him was the first sound he recognized. Slowly opening his eyes, he expected to see the deep aqua-green walls of the Atlantis infirmary; instead, he was looking at a white ceiling and deep tan colored walls. The lights were subdued, a fact that he was grateful for since his head was throbbing. He raised his head a bit and saw two figures sitting in chairs at the foot of the bed.

"H-hey…"

Beckett was on his feet in flash, barely beating Rodney to Sheppard's bedside. "How're you feeling, laddie"

"Normal…"

McKay scoffed, "Normal…I wouldn't call a stab wound, bruised ribs, and a minor concussion normal."

"S-seems normal to me, McKay," he motioned that he wanted to sit up. Beckett adjusted the bed, raising the head up a bit.

"Could I have some w-water? How b-bad's the s-stab wound?"

Carson gave him a sip of water, "Not too much at once, colonel; you can have more. As for the stab wound, it's not as bad as it looked. It bled a lot, but it's not very deep. It's more like a slice across your left side. A child doctor finished sewing you up a few minutes ago, took seventeen stitches." He gave Sheppard another sip of water.

"Child doctor, you mean a kid's doctor? Where are we, Sesame Street?"

Chuckling Carson said, "No, your doctor is a full-fledged emergency room doctor, he's just young."

"Well, C-Carson, they begin to look that way when we get older."

"Hush, you cheeky bastard; you need to rest. We were concerned about the head injury; you hit your head a second time when you fainted."

"Passed out, doc; not fainted," McKay chuckled, and Sheppard grinned slightly at his friend.

"Head's too hard to hurt very badly, Carson," but if Sheppard had to admit it, his head was throbbing.

"Well, you were lucky that it's only a minor concussion."

Sheppard's mind cleared enough to realize that Ronon wasn't in the room. "Where's Ronon?"

Carson glanced at the monitor, noticing that Sheppard's heart rate had picked up as he asked about Ronon. 'Calm down, John. Ronon's fine, he's getting stitches in his arm. He got cut, as well, but he'll be fine. I don't think he'll need as many stitches as you did. Now just rest, I'm gonna go let the nurse know you're awake. The doctor will be back in a bit to check you over, and then we can leave, once they've finished with Ronon."

Carson was about to open the door, when a man in a suit entered. "Gentlemen, I'm Detective Elliot of the Bakersfield Police." He shook Carson and Rodney's hands, glancing over at Sheppard. "Colonel, good to see you are awake. We've gotten statements from your friends, but I wanted to ask you a couple of questions."

"Sure, come in." Sheppard waved his hand.

I won't keep you long; Dr. McKay said you would be staying at least another day for you to recuperate a bit before you head on to Vegas. We can talk more tomorrow. Mostly, I just wanted to pass on a message from Sergeant Harper of the CHP. He got word about what went down at the Roadhouse, and that you were involved. He said you helped stop some of these guys this afternoon, and he wanted me to pass on his thanks. These guys have been wreaking havoc all over. We think they've been in the area for nearly two weeks, but working in pairs, robbing convenient stores and houses. We think they are responsible for two deaths and about seven rapes. Bunch of bad dudes, giving bikers a bad name; hell, I'm afraid to take my bike out for a while until this all settles down."

"Not the friendliest group I've been around, detective."

The young doctor walked in, followed by Ronon, whose bicep was wrapped in sticky purple gauze. McKay giggled, "Purple becomes you, Conan."

Ronon glared at the scientist, but asked Sheppard, "You OK, buddy?" Sheppard nodded.

The detective took his leave, after making arrangement to talk with them at 10 am at the hotel. The doctor discharged both Sheppard and Ronon into Beckett's care.

"I need a shirt." Sheppard said, after he pulled on his boots, with Carson's assistance.

"Here," he handed Sheppard one of Appell Lane Vineyards t-shirts that the colonel had purchased in the vineyard gift shop. "I drove the car here from the Roadhouse, and noticed the bag with the shirts, figured you'd need this." Sheppard muttered thanks and, with a grimace, pulled the dark green shirt over his head. The bruised ribs and stitches were tender and sore.

"Come on, John," Carson said gently. "Let's get you back to the hotel, so you can get some rest."

~~ooOoo~~

About thirty hours later, they were ready to leave Bakersfield. They met with the police to give their full statements the day before and had turned down a request by the local media for interviews. Carson had insisted that they all rest during the afternoon; sending Rodney out to pick up burgers for dinner, which they ate in Sheppard's room. They spent the rest of the evening watching a marathon of the television show, Dirty Jobs. Ronon was fascinated by all the different jobs the host attempted.

Thursday morning was bright and sunny as they checked out of the hotel. Rodney had insisted on taking care of the hotel bill, and was settling up. The other three walked to the newly delivered and undamaged Range Rover. The rental car agency had picked up the damaged vehicle, replacing it with an identical Rover.

Sheppard automatically opened the driver's door to get in when a sharp 'no' from Carson stopped him.

"You are not driving. Rodney's driving."

"Rodney? Hell, it'll be next week before we get to Vegas. He drives like my uncle Francis, slow and steady. I'll drive."

"No, and don't make me sic Ronon on you, laddie. Now, get in the back seat with me.

Ronon's riding up front. You're still recuperating and I want to keep an eye on you." Sheppard frowned, and reluctantly got in the backseat.

Rodney emerged from the hotel, taking the driver's seat. "OK, we're out of Bakersfield, and I am so glad to be leaving here.'

"You forget something, Rodney; seatbelts, maybe?"

"Bite me, Sheppard; who put you in charge?"

"Rodney," Sheppard was exasperated; mostly, because he didn't like not driving.

"OK, everyone, 'Colonel I Have to Run Everything' wants us to all buckle-up."

"It's the law, Rodney," Ronon remarked quietly.

"You can bite me, too, Conan." Rodney snarked, while Sheppard and Beckett laughed.

Once he was on the main road toward Vegas, Rodney remarked, "You guys realized that we left Atlantis about 48 hours ago and so far we've been hung over…"

Sheppard interrupted, "_You've_ been hung over."

Rodney glared over his shoulder at Sheppard, and continued, "Hung over, nearly wrecked, attacked by madmen on motorcycles, then beaten and stabbed by those same madmen."

"Your point is, McKay," Sheppard drawled, "all sounds normal to me."

Rodney sighed deeply, "Yeah. I know, and it's only day three of a thirty day vacation. We'll be lucky if we survive."

Sheppard grinned, "You worry too much. On to Vegas, what could possibly go wrong?"

Rodney groaned.

_End of Part Two. Now on to Vegas!_

* * *

Thank you so much for taking time to read Road Trip. I hope you will let me know what you think.

Next segment of their trip will be in Vegas…I doubt there's much they can get into there, or is there? I hope to take them through the entire thirty days…and have some ideas where the boys will stop. However, if any of you have ideas about where you like for them to spend a few days, let me know. I'd love to hear about places where they could get into trouble…uh…have fun. Yeah, have fun.

Next installment won't be for a couple of weeks…too much else going one but I will post Road Trip: Vegas as soon as I can.

Thanks again!


	3. Part 3  VegasBaby  Day One

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: Part Three: Vegas…Baby**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: **Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Three…Day One: 10, 477

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language (also, very brief nudity…no, not the guys…and brief mention of implied non-con)

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **The boys are on the way to Vegas…with a stop along the way. I had intended for the Vegas stopover to be a one shot story…but, well, this segment is over 10,000 words. I decided to break the Vegas stop into, at least, two segments. There is a lot to do in Vegas.

Our boys have had a busy day. Day One of the Vegas trip is their travels to get to there, what they see and do along the way, and their first night in Vegas. There is friendship and conversation, along with some action. (I promise I didn't forget the whump.)

I hope you are enjoying Road Trip, so far. I am having fun just writing the casual events of their day and the interaction of the characters, as much as the 'what have they gotten into now' action. I hope you find the story interesting and fun, and would love to hear from you. This is only the first day of their Vegas adventure…more days to come.

Enjoy!

* * *

**ROAD TRIP**

_by stella_pegasi_

**Part Three Vegas, Baby…**

**Day One:**

Declaring that he might as well take a nap, since it was going to take Rodney forever to get to Las Vegas, John Sheppard closed his eyes, promptly falling asleep. They had only been on the road out of Bakersfield for fifteen minutes.

"He's asleep, already?"

Carson scolded the scientist, "Not so loud, Rodney. You'll wake him up; he needs to rest."

"He's faking it, so he won't have to talk to us. He can't be that exhausted; he slept almost the entire day, yesterday."

"John suffered serious trauma and injuries like that take a toll on the body. He needs to rest; sleep is the best thing for him, so you need to be quiet."

"I got punched in the stomach…but I don't get to rest."

Ronon was sitting in the front passenger's seat of the Range Rover. He scoffed, "Too much padding there for you to get hurt."

A high-pitched chortle from Carson caused Rodney to turn and glare at Carson, who was sitting behind Ronon. He was not the least bit happy seeing the doctor's impish grin. Turning back to Ronon, who was also grinning, he whined, "Har de har, har…you both think you are so funny. Well, I have a bruise, a bad bruise."

"You have a bruise. Sheppard has seventeen stitches. I have nine. Plus, Sheppard has bruised ribs and a concussion; I think he's got you beat, McKay." Ronon said, as Carson chuckled once again.

Sheppard stirred, his head slipping over to lean against the brace between the windows, as he slouched down in the seat. Carson glanced at the colonel, concerned the chatter had woken him. He was pleased that apparently, Sheppard could tune out Rodney's whining.

"Rodney, just drive and please attempt to be quieter. You should turn on a little soft music like John did for us when we were under the weather."

Grumbling, Rodney fiddled with the sat radio and found a station playing soft Brazilian jazz, "That OK, Doctor Beckett?"

"Perfect, now attempt to be quiet."

They traveled in near silence for a bit over an hour. Beckett dosed for part of that time, while Rodney concentrated on driving. Only a random comment about the starkness of the scenery, or Ronon questioning what kind product an eighteen-wheeler was carrying broke the respite. Ronon immersed himself in reading some of the tourist brochures that Carson had picked up at the hotel as they were leaving.

They were approaching a road sign. Ronon said, "Hey; that says Edwards A-F-B…that's an Air Force ba…" He stopped, interrupted by a huge roaring sound that passed over them. Rodney had cracked open the sunroof earlier, and the sound felt like it came from inside the Rover.

The sleeping Sheppard woke with a start, immediately alert, "Hey, what the hell?"

Rodney replied, "Should've known you'd react to a plane. We're close to Edwards, think that was one of your flyboy buddies going over."

Sheppard was peering out the window, "Yeah, sounded like an F-35 Lighting…well, actually, its one of the test planes for the Joint Strike fighters program."

Rodney asked cynically, "You can tell those planes apart without seeing them?"

"Yes, Rodney, I can. Remember, I was here about three weeks ago; met Cam Mitchell for a few days of flight training. Air Force decided I had time for a recert on aircraft I hadn't flown in a long time. I got to watch the AF-03 in action while I was here…cool bird."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard caught movement, announcing, "Here she comes again." Within seconds, a sleek fighter jet zoomed across their path. They followed the plane until it was out of sight.

"Cool," Sheppard was smiling broadly, as he watched the plane's trajectory.

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Once a flyboy, always a flyboy."

Sheppard didn't reply, reaching behind him for the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of water, "Anyone want something to drink?"

Carson and Rodney said yes, Ronon held up his two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, "I'm good."

Sheppard chuckled, "You're gonna turn into a bottle of that stuff, Ronon."

Shifting around in his seat, Sheppard winced visibly. Carson, who was watching him closely, took the water bottles out of his hands. "Here, I'll take those. You need to be more careful, laddie; that's a nasty injury you have."

"I'm OK, just a bit tender."

"Aye, a bit tender...nice lie," Carson replied. Wisely, he didn't pursue it.

Looking at his watch, Sheppard glanced at Carson, winking. "Hey, Rodney; we've been on the road for an hour and a half, and you're just now getting to Edwards. What are you driving, forty miles an hour?"

"Bite me, Sheppard! You're the one who keeps saying that we have all the time in the world to get to Vegas. Why are you suddenly in such an all-fired hurry?"

"I'm not; I'm just saying you drive like a snowbird in Florida."

Rodney grumbled something unintelligible in response, prompting Carson to laugh. Ronon looked confused. Sheppard explained, "A snowbird is someone who is retired and spends the winters in warm places. They drive at about thirty miles an hour and hold up traffic."

Ronon nodded, "Hey, we're really not in a hurry to get to Vegas?"

"Nope, not in a hurry, we've got all day. Considering Rodney's driving, it'll take all day."

"Can we go here?" He handed Sheppard a brochure.

Sheppard scanned the pamphlet; "Calico Ghost Town…," then looked at Ronon. "You want to stop here?"

"Yeah…my grandfather, my mother's father, was a miner. He mined for an ore called stega. It's a silver colored metal; might be the same stuff. I…I'd like to see this."

"OK, by me; fortunately, we haven't passed it yet. Rodney, when we get close to Yermo, look out for signs about the Calico Ghost Town, that's our next stop."

"A ghost town, really?" The cynical tone in Rodney's voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, Rodney, it will be fun." Sheppard's tone was very even.

Rodney was about to say something else when he looked into the rear view mirror. Catching Sheppard's expression, he got the message, shut up.

"Yeah, sounds like lots of fun." McKay said flatly.

"Can I see that, John?" Carson asked, taking the brochure. He began to read part of it, '…the historic silver mining town lives on as one of the few original Old West mining camps. One-third of Calico's original structures still stand; the remaining buildings have been carefully reconstructed to capture the Old West spirit.' This sound interesting, Ronon."

"Yeah, Sergeant Harper told me stories about the old west on Earth, the cowboys and Indians, the mines, the cattle herds. It's pretty cool."

"Cool? You think that's cool?"

Rodney's snarky comment elicited a sharp kick to the back of his seat by Sheppard. The colonel drawled, "Yeah, Rodney, cool, it's gonna be cool. Now keep your eyes open, according to the map, we should be there in about an hour and a half…, or three, the way you drive."

Carson's high-pitched chortle appeared to annoy Rodney. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he noted the defiant smirk on Sheppard's face. Rodney wisely chose to refrain from further comments. They traveled in silence for the next several miles.

Beckett had been staring out the window at the landscape they were passing, "This is a desolate country, colonel."

"Desolate is an excellent word to describe this place. All that exist out here are scrub brush, dirt, and rocky hills. It might appear lifeless, but the entire Mojave Desert is teeming with life. All sorts of wildlife and plants survive in the Mojave; the Joshua tree, numerous other varieties of yucca, along with cactus, wildflowers, coyotes, gophers, insects, hawks. The desert is teeming with action."

"How do you know so much about this area, John?"

"When I was at the Academy, we underwent flight training at Edwards. We conducted, or suffered, desert survival training here, as well; not the most fun I've ever had. It came in handy later though…." Sheppard's voice trailed off, his gaze drifted through the window at the stark scenery.

Beckett asked, "Iraq or Afghanistan?"

Sheppard responded slowly, "Both." Shifting slightly in the seat, he gingerly extended his long legs as far as he could within the confined space. A slight catch in his breath indicated pain as he moved.

Carson reached into the luggage compartment behind the passenger area, grabbing his medkit. As he opened the bag, he sensed Sheppard staring at him. He stared back, asking, "What?"

"If you got that out for me, put it back."

"You're due for a pain pill."

"Not taking it."

"John, you're in pain, don't try to tell me you aren't."

"Don't want it." Sheppard turned away.

"I don't care if you don't want to take a pain pill; you need it, and I insist."

"No, whatever you are giving me makes me drowsy. I don't want to sleep my entire vacation away."

Beckett sighed, while noticing that McKay and Ronon were decidedly quiet. "John, I can give you a reduced dose.'

"Give me a couple of Advil, that'll be fine." The expression on his face ended the matter. Beckett gave him a two Advil and put his medkit away.

After he took the pills, Sheppard changed the subject, "Ronon, tell us about your grandfather."

Ronon turned toward Sheppard, "He…his name was Quinon, was a good man. His family had always worked in the stega mines around Torva, a town about hundred miles from the capital. My grandmother taught school there and my mother and my uncle grew up there. My uncle continued to work in the mines as an adult, but my mother went to the university in Sateda City. She met my father there, and stayed."

Beckett asked, "What did your mother study at university?"

Ronon smiled slightly as he responded, "She was a teacher as well, an art teacher."

McKay asked quietly, "Is this the grandfather who contracted the...uh, 'Second Childhood' disease?"

"No; that was my father's father who suffered from 'the second childhood'."

Silence descended within the Rover. Each of them appeared to be lost in the memory of Rodney dealing with the parasite that caused the 'second childhood". Sheppard broke the silence, "What did your grandfather do in the stega mines?"

"He started out digging out the ore, then he was promoted to supervisor of a crew, then a shift period. He'd been promoted to mine safety supervisor when he died."

Beckett asked softly, "How did he die, Ronon."

"There was a fire in the mine; he rushed to help the trapped miners and was overcome by the smoke. Over a hundred men died in the mine that day."

"Tough business, mining; no matter how much safety equipment and caution is put into mining operations, it's still dangerous. Sorry, you lost him that way, Ronon." Sheppard said.

"Aye, but he died a hero, Ronon; trying to save his people." Beckett said.

"Yeah, he did." Ronon replied softly.

As they continued toward Vegas, Ronon told stories of his visits to the mine with his grandfather, while Beckett regaled them with stories about his relatives who worked in the Scottish coalmines. As they reminisced, Beckett noticed Sheppard had drifted off to sleep once more.

It wasn't long before Rodney announced that they were approaching Barstow. "OK, who's got directions to the 'ghost' town? We're about to get onto I-15."

Beckett perused the brochure, "The brochure says that we should take the Yermo exit on I-15 which leads to the ghost town."

Fifteen minutes later, they had turned onto a dusty two-lane road, heading for a range of low mountains. A short drive took them to a small gatehouse, where Rodney paid their admission, then proceeded to the parking lot.

Rodney turned to Beckett, "Well; we're here. Should someone wake Sheppard?"

Beckett nodded, and gently rocked Sheppard's shoulder. Sheppard jumped, "Wha…oh crap, I fell asleep again." He sat up slowly, grimacing, "Gotta stop doing that." He looked out the window, "We're at the ghost town."

"Aye, we are, laddie; are you up to taking a walk?" Beckett was watching him with concern.

"I'm fine; looking forward to it. Besides, I'm getting hungry; let's go."

They exited the car, heading for the town entrance. As Rodney and Carson walked in front of them, Sheppard caught Ronon's arm. "Hey, buddy; I don't want you to expect too much from this place. We have a tendency to make tourist spots out of places that should be, well…not so crappy. There are still original buildings here, but it's more like a tourist trap. You can take a train ride for a little sightseeing, and you can tour the mine."

Sheppard reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He took a couple of twenty-dollar bills out, "Here, take this so you can pay for whatever you decide to do."

Ronon reluctantly took the money, and smiled, "Thanks. It's OK; I thought it was going to be like other places we have been here…, but I still wanted to come. Thanks for making Rodney stop."

Sheppard smiled as he noticed that the other guys had stopped, waiting for them. "Come on, I wasn't kidding about being hungry. Besides, I think they serve beer here."

They climbed the hill to the main street, where they spent about a half-hour walking around to get an overview of the ghost town. The town was busy; a couple of tour buses sat in the lot and one brought a busload of kids. The four men wandered past the schoolhouse, the firehouse, and several shops. Ronon was particularly interested in a building that was made entirely of the bases of glass bottles.

Returning to the 'main' part of town, Ronon and Carson stopped along the street, waiting for the daily 'shoot-out' to begin. Sheppard spotted Rodney leaning against a pillar on the restaurant porch, a decidedly morose look on his face.

Sheppard mounted the weathered wooden steps, and leaned against the opposite side of the pillar. "Ronon and Carson appear to be having a good time." He waited for Rodney's response.

"Yeah…" Rodney didn't say anything else.

"So, I take it that you aren't?"

Frowning Rodney sputtered, "Oh, it's just peachy. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my day. Hanging around a dusty, hot, monochrome, gaudy tourist trap with a bunch of kids running wild is so my concept of a good time."

"Rodney, those kids are very well behaved. However, hot and dusty, I will give you. I could use something cold to drink about now. When the shoot-out is over, I say we go get something to eat." Rodney only nodded.

Sheppard and Rodney found seats on a bench next to the building. They waited for the street play to conclude. When the show ended, Ronon searched the crowd and spotting them, he and Carson headed their way.

"Did ya see that, laddie? That shoot-out skit was funny. This was a good idea; I'm having fun."

Sheppard grinned, "Well, come on Wyatt Earp; let's go get some food. I'm starved."

Ronon asked, "Who is Wyatt Earp?"

"I'll tell you at lunch." He rose, visibly grimacing as he did.

Carson's demeanor changed, "Oh, laddie, you're in need of some pain meds."

"Advil, doc; I told you, Advil only."

Carson reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a bottle. "Here."

"I'll take it later."

"Now, colonel," handing him the water bottle he was carrying. Sheppard frowned but accepted the water, and swallowed the pill.

Inside the Calico restaurant, a comely young woman dressed in period costume, flowing calico skirt, white shirred off- the-shoulder blouse, and corset greeted them. She seated them at a table on the porch and handed them menus. Beckett was grinning broadly.

"I like this place."

Sheppard chuckled, "You just like the corset," laughing as Beckett turned a tad pink.

After ordering sandwiches, drinks, and a couple of baskets of buffalo wings, Sheppard explained the legend of Wyatt Earp to Ronon. The Satedan was fascinated by Sheppard's description of Earp's infamous gun. The server returned with their drinks and wings, and Ronon quickly consumed one basket by himself. He had discovered a fondness for buffalo wings.

Sheppard had a large mug of beer in front of him, ignoring the frown Beckett sent his way. The Advil had kicked in somewhat, and he was feeling better. He wasn't about to admit to the good doctor how badly his side had been hurting, mostly from the bruised ribs. His ribs felt more broken than bruised.

When the food arrived, they were pleasantly surprised at the generous portions; they dug in, not talking for a few minutes. Carson finally broke the silence, "Ronon, how's the buffalo burger?" His mouth full, Ronon only bobbed his head up and down. He turned to Sheppard, "Colonel, that BBQ good?"

"Very good, fries are good, too. Your's?" Carson had ordered the same BBQ sandwich and fries that Sheppard had.

"Very good, John; I'm glad I took your suggestion. Rodney?"

Rodney had a cheeseburger, "It's OK," he replied flatly.

Sheppard glowered at him, "McKay, lighten up; what the hell's wrong with you?"

"He misses her." Beckett chirped.

"Misses who, Jennifer?" He looked over at Rodney, "Is that what is going on with you?"

A snarky glare targeted Beckett, then turned on Sheppard, "No, I don't miss Jennifer."

Sheppard waited, cocking his head, impatient for an explanation from Rodney, which didn't come. Beckett finally answered for him, whispering, "He misses Atlantis." Rodney's glare intensified.

Rubbing his eyes, Sheppard paused for a moment before he spoke, "Rodney, '_she_' is fine, but if you want to call Radek and check on things you can do so. No one's stopping you; just be discreet."

Rodney immediately pulled the phone that the SGC had issued him from his shirt pocket. As he was searching for Radek's number, Sheppard reached over, taking the phone from him. "Could you please, at least, wait until we get back to the Rover?"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

"I'd rather bite into some of that homemade pie and another beer." Beckett frowned at Sheppard's mention of another beer. However, he remained silent.

Following pie and ice cream, Ronon and Beckett decided to take the short train ride and the silver mine tour. Sheppard had declined to join them, and remained at the table watching the crowds. Rodney stayed with him for a while before he wandered off. Close to an hour later, they all returned carrying gift shop bags.

"You guys, ready?" Sheppard started to rise as Beckett picked up an empty beer bottle that was sitting in front of Sheppard. As Beckett started to open his mouth, Sheppard put up his hand. "Don't start, I'm not taking pain pills and I'm not driving; besides, I only had three beers."

Ronon handed him a bag, preventing Beckett from replying. Sheppard asked, "What's this?" He peered inside, finding a hand-tooled leather cuff. It was dark brown, trimmed with thin braid of leather around the edges. "This is cool…thanks."

Ronon looked a bit sheepish, but replied, "I know you like those things. I just wanted to say thanks for stopping here. I think my grandfather would have liked it. I liked it."

Embarrassed, Sheppard asked what else the guys bought. Ronon showed him a braided leather belt and a leather tooling kit he had gotten. Carson showed them a brown leather belt with a big silver buckle he had bought, in addition to a western-styled shirt. Carson also bought a large container filled with several varieties of 'homemade' fudge.

As they left the restaurant, Sheppard realized that Rodney was concealing a bag behind him. "What did you buy, Rodney?"

Reluctantly, Rodney pulled a stuffed toy bear from the bag. Beckett scoffed, looking at Sheppard, "I told you he was lonely." Sheppard and Ronon both laughed.

"Bite me; I bought this for Madison." He turned and walked off, heading toward the parking lot. The others, still laughing, followed.

As they approached the Rover, Rodney was pulling out his phone to contact Atlantis. He was already talking by the time he clicked the remote, unlocking the car doors.

No one spoke as Rodney pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the interstate. The others listened to Rodney's side of the conversation with Radek, which consisted of pauses in between excited diatribe. _What, what did they do that for? Didn't I tell you not to let that moron touch the database? I worked with him at Area 51; he's an idiot. Did you get it fixed? What the fuck did they want to do that for, damn it? I don't want those bastards anywhere near the stuff we are working on. You tell Lorne to post Marines around the science department and keep them away.  
_

At the mention of Major Lorne's name, Sheppard plucked the phone from Rodney's hand. Ignoring the astrophysicist's whining, Sheppard spoke, "Radek, what's happening?" He listened intently, while slapping Rodney's hand away. "OK, get Lorne for me." The agitated scientist reached out for the phone and Sheppard slapped his hand away again. "Rodney, stop it," he was clearly annoyed.

"Lorne, tell me what's going on there." Sheppard listened for a couple of minutes. "So, exactly what we thought. OK, just stick to the plan and let me know if anything happens." He paused, listening to Lorne. He replied, "Having a great time; no problems, so far." He ignored Beckett's scoff at his comment. After Lorne's reply, Sheppard said, "Good. Don't worry if you don't hear from us for a few days. Tell Radek that I'm hiding Rodney's phone. Talk to you when we leave Vegas." Sheppard hung up, putting the phone in the pocket of his shirt.

"Sheppard, give me that back; I need to talk to Radek."

"No, you don't; everything is fine, Atlantis is in good shape. Woolsey, Radek, and Lorne are taking care of her; now relax."

"What did you mean by exactly what we thought and stick to the plan?" Rodney asked pointedly.

"Nothing, we all knew that the Area 51 guys were itching to get their hands on Atlantis. I'd already told Lorne to keep security tight, so that there was limited aggravation for everyone. Things are fine. Now, concentrate on driving; you just missed the entrance ramp to I-15."

Rodney glanced to his left as he passed the ramp. "Damn it; well, we need to fill up the tank anyway." He pulled into a convenience store, and hopped out of the car to pump gas.

"John, is everything really OK on Atlantis?" Beckett asked while Rodney was out of earshot.

"Yeah, the 51 guys are acting a bit pissy, but Radek said Dr. Lee actually chewed a couple of them out royally. Lorne said the scientists were bickering, but that's normal." Sheppard shifted in his seat, trying to adjust his seatbelt. The belt was putting pressure on his ribs and he couldn't suppress a moan.

"Those ribs are giving you fits aren't they, laddie?"

Sheppard sighed deeply, "You'd know I was lying if I said they were fine. Yeah, they feel more broken than bruised."

"Ronon, I think the colonel needs to be in the front seat, it reclines. These back ones don't."

"Yeah, they do. This is a new model Rover; the rear seats recline," Sheppard grunted.

"Good, then let's get this seat back. We need to take the pressure off your ribs."

"Wait, you'll have to move some of the stuff behind my seat."

Carson looked at Ronon for assistance. The Satedan jumped out of the Rover, heading for the rear hatch. While he was shifting the luggage and Beckett's fishing gear, Carson checked the bandage on Sheppard's stab wound.

"You are bruised very badly, and have quite a bit of swelling, laddie. Let me give you something for the pain."

"No, just Advil."

"You can't keep taking Advil; it's not strong enough. I'll give you two more. However, if you continue to be in this kind of pain, I am giving you something stronger." He looked up as Ronon indicated the seat was clear. "OK, let's get this seat back."

Once the seat was reclined, Sheppard was still having issues with the seatbelt. Carson reached into the gift shop bag, and pulled out the western shirt he had bought and folded it into a small pad. He slipped it under the belt taking the pressure off Sheppard's ribs, "Better?"

"Yeah."

Rodney got behind the wheel, looking back at Beckett. Concern evident on his face, he asked, "Is he OK?"

"Aye, he's gonna be fine; just hurting. He had a nasty injury."

"I'm right here, guys; you don't need to talk about me." Sheppard mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you should take care of yourself." Rodney retorted.

Sheppard grunted, closing his eyes. Rodney started the Rover; by the time he pulled onto the interstate, Sheppard was asleep. They were on the way to Vegas.

~~ooOoo~~

"You're going to have to wake him up. I have no idea what hotel he's booked for us. I could drive around until he wakes up on his own, but the way he's been sleeping, we could be driving around for a week."

"Rodney, you're gonna wake the dead if you don't lower your voice."

"Too, late." Sheppard mumbled.

"John, how are you feeling?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard opened one eye, "OK." He punched the button to move the seat into the upright position. Looking out the window, he shook his head, "Rodney, we're still ten miles from Vegas."

"I don't know what exit to take, 'cause I don't know where we're going."

"We are going to Caesar's Palace, turn the GPS on…"

Rodney switched on the GPS and within ten minutes, the monotone female voice on the GPS was telling him to take exit 38, turning onto East Flamingo.

"Rodney, Caesar's is on the left, turn at the light." Sheppard's directions were mimicked by the GPS seconds later.

Ronon, whose head had been bobbing from one window to another, uttered, "Are these palaces?"

Sheppard chuckled, "No, these are hotels, but they could be called palaces of greed, gambling, and sin. Wait until you see this place at night. The neon lights are spectacular."

Rodney made the u-turn into the hotel driveway and pulled under the large canopy in front of the lobby doors. Before he got out of the car, he turned to look at Sheppard, "See, I got us here and it didn't take a week."

"You still drive too slow." Sheppard mumbled and Rodney turned away, opening his door. He didn't see the smiles exchanged by Sheppard and Beckett.

Ronon quickly exited the car and started to get the luggage. Rodney had opened Sheppard's door, offering to help him. Sheppard frowned and waved him off, getting out of the Rover, slowly, but on his own. He headed to the rear of the Rover, where Ronon was reaching for the luggage. "Hey, those guys over there will get the bags; you don't need to deal with them." Ronon nodded, and Sheppard waved the bellmen over.

A few minutes later, everything except Beckett's fishing gear had been unloaded, and Rodney had turned the keys over to the valet attendant. They were about to go inside the hotel when they realized that Sheppard had disappeared.

"Where did he go, is he inside already?" Rodney asked.

They searched all directions for the errant colonel; Ronon spotted him first, "He's over there." Sheppard had walked across the driveway and was standing in the plaza where the three magnificent fountains were located. They joined him.

Beckett stood next to Sheppard, "Laddie…I think you need to go inside. I'd like for you to rest for a while."

"That's all I've been doing, Carson. I need to move around. Magnificent, aren't they?"

"The fountains are spectacular."

"They're fountains." Rodney said, matter-of-factly.

"Not just any fountains. Remember me telling you about my childhood hero, Evil Knievel?" Sheppard looked at Rodney, who nodded. "These are the fountains that he attempted to jump in 1967. Didn't make it, ended up in a coma for nineteen days, but it was quite a show."

"Is that why we're staying here, because of your childhood hero?

"Yep, no place else I would ever stay in Vegas."

Ronon was grinning, as he surveyed the fountains, "That I would have liked to have seen."

Sheppard chewed his lower lip, "That can be arranged. Let's get checked in and I'll show you a clip of his jump, there's a bunch on Youtube."

As Sheppard and Ronon headed for the lobby, Rodney fell in step next to Beckett, "Well, that explains it; Sheppard thinks he's fucking Evil Knievel. No wonder he's always getting hurt."

"Aye, well, don't you imagine yourself as Batman, Rodney?" Beckett was grinning impishly.

McKay glowered at Beckett. "Batman was a hero; Knievel was a daredevil." As they passed through the doors into the opulent lobby, he added, "Besides, Daffy Duck is more suited to Sheppard. His hair looks like Daffy's tail."

~~ooOoo~~

The four friends parted company, each going to their own rooms to shower and change after the dusty, hot day. Ronon joined Sheppard in his room approximately an hour later. He was anxious to watch the video of Evil Knievel that Sheppard had promised to show him. They were watching the jump for the fifth time when Rodney arrived, Carson on his heels.

As they entered, Ronon grinned at them like a schoolboy, gesturing to the laptop screen. "Have you seen this? This guy was awesome."

Beckett strolled to the window of the living room in Sheppard's suite. It was nearing sunset, and twilight was beginning to descend over Las Vegas. The glittering lights that would be blazing in the dark were just beginning to emerge.

"Living in Scotland, I always wanted to come to Vegas. Seeing the pictures of the pretty girls and the bright lights, it was intoxicating. The lads and I would chat over a pint about how much money we'd win, and how the girls would be hanging all over us. I never made here until today."

Sheppard was sprawled on the couch; his long legs stretched across the cushions. "Night's still young, Carson; you could win all that money tonight." He cocked his eyebrow as a grin spread across his face.

"Aye, laddie that I could, provided, I had any luck, but we know lady luck doesn't like me."

Rodney had picked up the hotel directory and was looking through the restaurants on-site, "Who's hungry? I'm famished; I only had that cheeseburger at lunch."

Ronon snorted, "Yeah, after you ate nearly the entire breakfast buffet this morning."

"Well, Conan, I had to make sure that you didn't eat it all."

"Yeah, well, you had at least three muffins along with half of the eggs and bacon. Then you ate half of Carson's candy before we got here."

"I did not; I only had two pieces." Rodney put down the directory and folded his arms across his chest.

Sheppard sat up slowly, "Quit pouting, Rodney. Let's go downstairs, find a restaurant, and have dinner." He grimaced slightly as he pushed off the couch, using his left arm. Carson was watching his every move.

"You know lads; we've had a busy day, maybe we should get room service and have dinner here."

Sheppard's glower quickly told Carson that his suggestion was a moot one. Grabbing a jacket lying on the dining table, Sheppard headed for the door. "Come on, guys, it's our first night in Vegas; let's have some fun."

They wandered through the opulent lobby, adorned with marble statues and employees dressed in Ancient Roman costume. They walked through the casino toward several of the restaurants. As they passed a large area of slot machines, Sheppard spotted a restaurant, the Hyakumi.

"Let's eat here, it's a sushi bar and tappen restaurant; I doubt that Ronon has ever had this experience."

A lovely oriental woman seated them at a tappen table for four, which was located next to a large artificial tree. Sheppard explained to Ronon that their food was going to be prepared on the grill embedded in the table. To start, he ordered an assortment of sushi rolls, and sake for everyone. However, when the sake arrived, he refused any. He smiled at the server, telling her he was driving.

Beckett, who was sitting next to Sheppard, had watched as the colonel gingerly eased into the padded chair when they arrived. He leaned over and quietly asked him, "OK; I know you're in pain. Holding out on the sake because you know you need stronger pain medicine?"

Sheppard's green eyes betrayed him as he glanced at Beckett. The pain he felt was unmistakable in his eyes, "Enjoy your dinner, Carson."

"You canna lie to me, I can see you're in pain."

"Just get through the meal, then we'll talk." Sheppard turned away, ending the conversation. As the chef appeared, pushing a cart laden with the food he was going to prepare, Beckett let the matter drop.

The next hour they laughed at the antics of the chef as he prepared their steak, chicken, and shrimp. Ronon discovered the joys of chopsticks, quickly becoming adept at using them. Grinning, Sheppard reminded him that the use of chopsticks was a vast improvement over his table manners when they first met. After a few more sakes and bowls of ice cream, they were stuffed and ready to leave.

Sheppard turned as he rose from his chair, but swayed, appearing dizzy, and lurched forward. He reached for the back of his chair, but Carson grabbed him. As he helped steady Sheppard to remain on his feet, he heard Rodney's voice, low and concerned.

"Carson, look at his side."

Sheppard's jacket had opened, revealing his side; there was blood on his shirt. "Oh, John, you've ripped your stitches. How the hell did that happen?"

Sheppard sighed, "I got dizzy in the shower, and fell. I thought the bleeding had stopped."

Looking at Ronon, Carson said, "Let's get him to his room."

As Ronon approached, Sheppard glared at him, "Don't, I can walk."

Rodney remained to pay the bill, while Ronon and Beckett escorted the colonel to his suite. Before he left to get his medical kit, Beckett told Ronon to make certain that Sheppard got undressed and into bed.

After Beckett left, Sheppard raised his hand, pointing his finger at Ronon, "I can get undressed myself." He headed into the bedroom and in a few minutes, Ronon heard a thud. Rushing into the bedroom, he found Sheppard struggling to get up from the floor. He walked over and put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder.

"Stop fighting this and let me help." Positioning himself behind Sheppard, he slid his arms under the colonel's arms. Gently, he pulled him off the floor.

"Don't tell Beckett."

Ronon shrugged and grunted. "Beckett said the clothes have to go." The colonel had removed his shirt, but had only managed to get his jeans partway down his legs before he lost his balance and fell.

"Sit," Ronon ordered, then chuckled as Sheppard sat. "You must be hurting if you're listening to me." Ronon pulled Sheppard's jeans the rest of the way off.

"In the infamous words of Dr. Rodney McKay, bite me." Sheppard exhaled deeply as he lay back on the bed.

"Why didn't you tell Beckett how badly you hurt?

"Didn't want him fussing over me; cold, can you reach that blanket?"

Ronon was covering him with the blanket as they heard a knock on the door. Ronon left and returned with Rodney. Another knock sent him back to the door leaving Rodney and Sheppard alone.

"You are an idiot. We should have stayed in Bakersfield another day for you to rest. You didn't need to be walking all over that stupid ghost town, look what it got you."

Sheppard angrily replied, "This has nothing to do with the ghost town, Rodney. Don't you dare say that in front of Ronon, do you hear me?" Rodney nodded as Ronon and Beckett entered the bedroom.

"Ronon tells me that ya fell again."

"Thanks," Sheppard flashed Ronon a very annoyed glare; Ronon just shrugged. "I tripped when I was taking my jeans off, that's all."

Beckett turned to Rodney. "Get me some clean towels, and wet one of them with warm water." When Rodney returned, Beckett gently cleaned the knife wound, laying a piece of gauze over the cut. He went to wash his hands and when he returned, he pulled a suture kit from his medical bag.

He watched as Beckett laid equipment out as if he was going to do surgery. "You always bring suture kits with you when you travel?"

Beckett smirked. "Only when I travel with _you_, colonel. Now lay still, I have to re-suture this area, but I'm gonna numb it first." Beckett worked quickly to repair and re-dress the wound as Rodney and Ronon stood by quietly.

"There, laddie, good as new; now, let's get a shot in you for the pain." He was reaching for syringe when Sheppard started to protest. It was Beckett's turn to glare. "You are going to take this pain medication, if I have to have Ronon hold you down. I've allowed you to be stubborn all day when I shouldn't have. Now be quiet, or I'll give it to ya in your bum." He injected Sheppard with the drug, then pulled the rest of the covers over the colonel.

"Now, colonel, you are going to sleep, and tomorrow you are going to rest. That's an order. You're the one who says we have all the time in the world. Well, we're taking it."

Beckett was reaching for the bedside light to turn it off, when Sheppard spoke, already sounding groggy, "Hey, guys; you go on out and have fun. I'll be fine here; don't let me ruin your night."

"No, laddie, not leaving you alone," Beckett said.

Ronon offered, "I'll stay with him, doc. I can watch movies and stuff; we'll be fine."

Looking over at Rodney, Beckett said, "I can call to check on him. I would like to at least to talk a walk around and see the place. You OK with that?" Rodney nodded.

Once Carson was satisfied that Sheppard was sleeping peacefully, he and Rodney left Ronon to keep watch over Sheppard. They were going out on the town.

~~ooOoo~~

"Carson!"

Rodney grabbed him, pulling him back onto the sidewalk seconds before a fast moving car sped past them. "You have to watch where you're going. You're gonna get hit by a car."

Carson was shaking from his narrow escape; he blew out a deep breath. "Thank you, Rodney. I was looking at the scenery. I dinna see that the traffic light had changed. It's hard to tell the difference from all the dazzling bright colors."

"Honestly, you've seen more dazzling things than most people will ever see. Yet, you are overwhelmed by the cheap lights of Vegas."

"It's amazing here, you can't tell me that you don't think Vegas is cool."

"Cool…really?"

After leaving Sheppard and Ronon, they strolled through Caesar's large opulent casino, then decided to take a walk along the Vegas Strip. They paused at Sheppard's infamous fountains to marvel at how impressive they were lit up. By the time they reached the street, Carson was totally mesmerized and nearly walked out into oncoming traffic.

The light changed, "Now we can go, Carson." They walked across the street, jostled by the large crowd.

Once they were on the other side of the street, they found themselves in front of Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. "Let's go get a margarita, Rodney; that looks like a fun place."

"Since when did you become a bar-hopper, Beckett?"

"Oh, I forgot; you spent all your time in classrooms. Did ya never go to a bar while you were in college?"

"No."

Beckett frowned, "Come on, let's get a drink."

"I'm not getting drunk like I did the other night."

"Then don't drink so much." Beckett grabbed Rodney's arm and steered him into the busy restaurant. They found a couple of empty stools at the bar and ordered margaritas. They listened to the music, and watched the people, absorbing the ambiance. Forty minutes, and two drinks each, later Rodney leaned over to Beckett.

"I think we should do some gambling."

Rodney, you can't gamble. You are the easiest tell on the planet."

"I am not going to play poker; that's Sheppard's game. I'm going to play blackjack. I have a system. Pay the man and let's go." He hopped off the barstool and headed for the door.

"Why do I have to pay?" Beckett sighed, "Cheeky bastard." He quickly paid the bill. Then he rushed out the door to catch up with Rodney, who had crossed the side street and was walking down the Strip.

"Rodney, wait; where are you going?"

'There," he pointed to the bright glittering façade of Harrah's, "we're going there."

Striding like a man on a mission, McKay headed for Harrah's, Carson on his heels. They slipped past the crowded Carnival Court shops and through the west entrance into the casino.

Carson grabbed Rodney's arm, "What are ya doing?"

"I am going to play blackjack."

"Rodney, you shouldn't gamble; you always lose."

"I'm always playing with a bunch of card sharks; you know Sheppard and his grunts. That's a lifestyle with them. Here with the 'Average Joe' off the street; it's a piece of cake."

"You think you won't be playing with card sharks in Vegas, Rodney?"

"Stop worrying, Carson, piece of cake."

Rodney headed for the blackjack tables and found an open table. Sitting down, he laid two hundred dollars on the table layout. Looking at the dealer, he said, "Change please." The dealer gave him a pile of chips, and then pushed the money into a locked drop box.

Carson watched Rodney for a bit before he became restless, and began to amble around the casino. For the next two hours, he played a few games of black jack at another table, hit the roulette wheel, and then played the slots. He was getting a bit light headed from the free drinks, but he was having fun. It was nearing midnight when he decided to check on Sheppard. He found a relatively quiet corner to place the call, satisfied when Ronon told him that Sheppard was still sleeping soundly. He decided to wander back to where Rodney was still playing blackjack.

When he rounded the corner to the area where the blackjack tables were located, he saw a huge crowd surrounding Rodney's table. He inched his way through the people to see only Rodney and one other man playing blackjack. Rodney had a huge pile of chips in front of him. The majority of the chips were black, $100 chips.

The dealer had just busted, and Rodney was sitting at 20, the other player at 19. Rodney grinned with delight as the dealer pushed another large stack of chips toward him. Carson pushed his way gently through the crowd to stand at Rodney's elbow.

"Rodney, you've won all those chips?"

Rodney turned to look at him, his faced flushed, and his eyes slightly glazed. Carson was certain that Rodney had enjoyed a few free drinks as well. He giggled as he replied, "Told you, piece of cake."

The other player, a burly man wearing a too-tight black nylon shirt and heavy gold jewelry was glaring at Rodney. He leaned over and whispered gruffly, "You're cheating. I know you are. I just haven't figured out how, jerk, but I will."

Carson flushed, adrenaline coursing though his body. He didn't like the looks of the man staring at Rodney. "We should go. I'm getting tired, and you've won enough." Carson tugged at Rodney's sleeve, "Come on."

"I'm not ready to go."

"Yes, ya are. Grab your chips and let's go cash out."

Rodney frowned, but reluctantly started gathering his chips, when the other player grabbed his wrist. "Where the hell do you think you're going? You aren't going anywhere until I figure out how you cheated. I want my money." The man jumped up from the chair and grabbed Rodney by the shirt collar.

Carson reached for the man's arms, but casino security was quicker. They had the large man under restraint within seconds. A man in a suit with a Harrah's ID badge approached, "Benari; I warned you that if you made another scene in here, you were banned from the casino. Consider yourself banned." He gestured to the security guards, "Get him out of here."

Benari was livid, "He's cheating. I know he is." He shrieked as the guards dragged him away.

The Harrah's floor manager turned to Rodney. "Look; we were watching you, thought you were counting cards. However, you lost too randomly, so we figured you were just having a lucky night. Enjoy your winnings and visit Harrah's again soon." He turned to another security guard, "Escort the gentlemen to the cage and see that they get cashed out." They had been summarily dismissed.

As they were waiting to cash out, Carson whispered, "What were you thinking? You were counting cards, weren't you? You idiot, you could have been arrested."

Rodney smirked, answering quietly, "No, it's not illegal. All they can do is ban you from the casino. Besides, I was too smart for them. They were trying to trip me up, by distracting me and shuffling the decks more often. But….genius here," he pointed to himself, grinning, "I was too quick for them."

Carson shook his head as he stepped to the cashier's window and dumped his chips in the tray." The pretty girl behind the glass smiled as she passed a hundred and seventy-five dollars back.

"Really, Carson…that's all?" Rodney dumped his chips; it took a couple of minutes before she placed his cash in the tray. "See, this is how it's done; seven thousand, one-hundred and twenty dollars."

Carson was stunned, and speechless. Rodney grinned wickedly, and headed out the door, after stuffing his winnings in his pocket.

They walked out into the steamy night and headed for the sidewalk. There was a huge crowd of people milling about and Rodney motioned for Carson to follow him. "Carson, this way; it's less crowded."

They headed along a thick line of shrubbery toward the opening to the sidewalk. As they approached the opening, a deep angry voice came from behind them.

"You really didn't think you were gonna get away with my money did you? You were counting cards; I know you were. Now hand over the money."

Rodney felt a hard object pressing into his back, "No, I'm not giving you the money. You were counting cards just like I was, I was just better. You're an amateur." He got the reaction he wanted.

Benari raised the gun to hit Rodney over the head, and the scientist turned pushing his shoulder into the large man's chest. Benari fell over hitting his head on the pavement. Before the two men with him could react, Rodney grabbed Carson's arm and headed back into the casino.

Once inside, Rodney steered straight for the escalator that led to the showrooms, pushing Carson in front of him. As they stepped off the escalator, Rodney spotted a door at the end hallway to his left. He ran to the door, finding it unlocked, and motioned for Carson to follow him. Just as the door closed behind them, they heard Benari's voice.

"I saw that bastard head up the escalator. Keep looking; I want him."

Rodney looked down the dimly lit hall, "That way." The two men ran toward the end of the hall where heavy curtains covered the opening. Music from the showroom was drifting into the hallway. They halted abruptly as a door opened in front of them. Rodney grabbed the handle before the door closed, and dashed inside; neither man saw who had disappeared behind the curtain.

As Rodney peeked into the hallway to determine if they had lost Benari, he felt Carson's tug on his sleeve. Carson whispered, "Rodney, turn around."

Rodney pivoted around, shock registering on his face. The shock quickly replaced by his skin flushing bright crimson, and then a wide grin emerged. "Well, Carson, if we were going to hide, not a bad place to pick."

The two men were facing a large room full of showgirls in various states of undress, mostly undress. Carson was eye to chest with a very tall cinnamon skinned dancer, with absolutely nothing on.

"Oh…uh…sorry…ladies," he tried to draw his eyes to her face, but his eyes kept drifting down. "It's OK…I'm a doctor."

She ran her fingers along his jaw, "Well, if you're a doctor, then it's most certainly fine. I imagine the girls would love a physical from a little cutie like you."

Another showgirl, clad in costume, walked up to Rodney. She smiled and asked, "You a doctor, too, honey?" She was a few inches taller than Rodney, who managed to stammer a reply.

"Uh…uh…I…I am…a, not a medical doctor, an astrophysicist."

"Oh…cute and smart; don't get many like you very often. Now what are you boys doing in here?"

Carson replied, "Some guys were chasing us, they got mad because Rodney won some money at blackjack. They thought he cheated."

She asked, "Did you?"

"No, no…"

"So I take it, you need a way out of the hotel." Both men nodded. "Follow me, I show you how to get out the service bay."

They followed her into the hall as the cinnamon-skinned showgirl called after them. "We get off at three, come back and party with us, doctors." Beckett blushed again, giving her a little wave.

The showgirl led them through the curtains, and they found themselves backstage. The music was loud; someone was singing, 'Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend.' She led them behind the stage to the opposite side, pulling the curtains back. "Follow this corridor, at the end is an elevator which will take you to the ground level and the service bay. You can leave the hotel through the back gate.

"Thanks." Rodney said, and Carson nodded.

"No problem, glad to help a couple of sweet guys."

She turned to leave, both men watching her walk away, the feathers on the rear of her costume wiggling as she swayed. After taking a deep breath, Carson said, "Come on, Rodney. I want to go back to Caesars."

The elevator deposited them in the large service bay where supply trucks were unloaded. There was a security guard sitting in a small enclosure, but he didn't notice the pair as they slipped around the perimeter of the bay. One of the large garage doors was open and Carson and Rodney, stepped into the balmy night air. Carson turned to his right to head back to the Strip, but Rodney stopped him.

"No, let's go this way, we'll circle the block and go up the street that leads to Caesar's driveway. That way, that maniac won't be able to find us."

"Rodney, it's dark that way. We should head where the crowds are."

Rodney snarked, "Afraid of the dark?"

"Yes, I am, and so are you."

"Come on…" Rodney took off toward the left.

Within a couple of minutes, they were following a dark street, the track for the monorail above their head. They were only half way down the block when they heard a woman's cry.

"Please, let me go; let me go." She was pleading. The only answer was muffled laughter.

Carson and Rodney stopped, and in the pale light, they saw three men surrounding a woman backed against a wall. Carson whispered, "We canna let them harm her."

"What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Call the police, Rodney."

Just as Rodney pulled out his phone, one of the men turned around. "Well, well, lookie here; we got us some good Samaritans. You boys think you gonna stop us from having some fun with this little lady?" He and one of the other men started walking toward them; one had a large knife.

"We don't want any trouble, laddies; just let her go."

"Laddies? Listen to that cute little accent, maybe we should have some fun with him, too."

As the gang member moved closer to Carson, Rodney spotted a pipe leaning against the monorail pillar to his right. He backed up, edging closer to it, until he felt the cold steel touch his fingers.

"Where you going? You think, you're gonna get away?" The man with the knife got closer, brandishing the blade. Rodney grabbed the pipe and lashed out, striking the man's arm. The knife went flying through the air, clanking as it fell several feet away. Angry, the man swung out at Rodney, striking him in the jaw. As he fell, he saw that Carson was already on the ground and not moving. Before he lost consciousness, he heard sirens coming closer. Then his world turned black.

~~ooOoo~~

Ronon was dozing, stretched out on the long couch. He rarely slept soundly when one of his teammates was injured; preferring to remain ready should they need something. The soft tone of the telephone behind his head roused him. He reached behind him for the handset.

"Yeah," he answered, then listened for a few minutes. "Rodney, what the hell are you talking about, slow down." He listed for a bit more, "No, I will not wake him up."

Another minute went by, "I want to talk to Carson."

"Carson, do you really want me to wake him up?" He waited, then replied. "OK, but you better be ready to explain this to him." He paused, "We'll be there."

Ronon rose and walked into the bedroom. He turned on the light next to the bed, "Sheppard, wake up."

Sheppard didn't stir, so Ronon gently shook him. That didn't work either, so he tried a couple more times before Sheppard moaned.

"Leave me alone."

"Sheppard, you got to get up."

"Wha…what time is it?"

"It's 3:22."

He rolled over, "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"No, Sheppard, it's still dark. You've only been asleep for about six hours."

The colonel moaned and buried his face in the pillow, "Then go away."

Ronon jerked the covers back, "You gotta get up; McKay and Beckett called, and they need you."

Sheppard opened his eyes slightly, "N-need me? Why, what's wrong?"

"They're in jail."

Sheppard's eyes snapped open, looking at Ronon, hoping he was joking. However, the big man didn't look happy. Sheppard sighed, "Crap…hand me my pants."

~~ooOoo~~

They took a taxi to the main police station, located on Las Vegas Boulevard, near the airport. Sheppard walked up to the front desk and waited for the sour-looking sergeant to acknowledge him. He chuckled as he watched the sergeant's eyes tracked past him to Ronon, a suspicious look crossing the officer's face.

"I was told to ask for Detective Palmer; I'm Colonel John Sheppard."

The sergeant stared at him, "Colonel? You don't look like any colonel I ever had."

Sheppard smirked, "Air Force."

"Oh," the officer replied as if that explained everything, "wait here, I'll let him know."

Ronon motioned for Sheppard to sit. Ronon chose to stand, making eye contact with the sergeant, who eventually stopped staring. Five minutes passed before, Det. Palmer came into the waiting room.

"Colonel; I'm Detective Palmer."

Sheppard rose slowly, extending his hand to the older man. "Detective; I'm Colonel Sheppard, and this is Ronon Dex." The detective nodded to Ronon, as Sheppard flashed his credentials to Palmer.

"Sorry to bring you down here, but we wanted to check out their story. McKay and Beckett told the officers they worked for the Air Force. They didn't look like military, so I started to call over to Nellis and check out the story. They begged me not to, said you could vouch for them.

"I can, they are members of my team. We're currently on leave, just seeing the sights.

So, what's going on here, detective. Are my friends under arrest?"

"No, after they were treated…"

"Treated, are they injured?"

"No, not seriously, both got knocked out, and one needed stitches on his face. They'll be fine. As I was saying, the officers brought them back here from Desert Springs Hospital for questioning. Your 'friends' had a couple of little adventures tonight. We got a report of a problem at Harrah's. It seems they got tangled up with a local hood, named Frank Benari. Then, while they were escaping from him, they snuck out the back of the Harrah's. They were headed back to Caesar's when they stumbled onto some local gang bangers who were about to rape a woman. Apparently, they interrupted the attack, getting knocked out for their trouble. Fortunately, one of them called 911 and the dispatcher was able to pinpoint the location from the phone's GPS."

"I take it, you aren't holding them."

"No, not after we found out where the money came from."

"Money?"

"Yeah, looks like they did OK at the blackjack table. The officers found that one of them had several thousand dollars on him. They had heard the call regarding some men being chased through Harrah's. Since they didn't know what the call was about, they took them into custody until they could sort things out."

Sheppard tried not to laugh when he heard Ronon snicker. "Can we spring them from here now, detective."

"Yeah, I'll have their personal belonging brought to the front desk." He turned to an officer standing nearby, "Pete, take these gentlemen to holding room four; those two guys are free to go."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, shaking the detective hand once more. As the detective turned to leave, Sheppard asked, "Do they know they are free to go?" The detective answered no.

When they arrived at the holding room, Sheppard asked the officer to give them a few minutes, he wanted to talk to his friends. The officer told him to take his time.

Sheppard opened the door, to find Rodney and Carson both sitting at a table in the center of the room. They both stood up as the door opened.

"Well, you two look like you just got taken to the principal's office. You, OK?" Both men shook their heads yes. Sheppard motioned for them to sit.

"Quite the shiner you got there Rodney."

"Yeah, well…" Rodney voice trailed off.

"Carson, stitches?" There was a bandage on Carson's left cheek.

"Aye, John; good stitcher took care of me, probably won't scar."

Sheppard nodded, then slowly sat down. Beckett, despite his own injury, was watching the colonel's every move.

"Sorry that we had to wake you, lad. I…we…should've been more careful."

"What happened?"

For the next ten minutes, Rodney and Carson talked over each other to tell the story of their night. Finally, Sheppard stopped them.

"OK, enough; let's go." He stood up, using the table as leverage.

Rodney looked blankly at him, "Go? They aren't holding us?"

"No, they aren't; they were just waiting for me to confirm your story about being with the Air Force. You are free to go, and you should consider yourself lucky." He looked at Ronon, "I don't know about you, big guy, but I'm hungry. Let's find a diner and McKay, you're buying."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in booth in the Coffee Shop, which was open twenty-four hours. Recommended by their cabbie, the diner was located in the Treasure Island hotel, a few blocks north of Caesars. Sheppard was satisfied; a large pot of coffee, already half empty, was sitting on their table.

"Seriously, Rodney; you counted cards?"

Rodney was slightly less morose than he had been at the police station, "Yes, Sheppard; I counted cards. I told 'Mr. Worrywart' over here that it was a piece of cake, and it was. Even the dealer tried to catch me, and he couldn't."

Sheppard shook his head in amazement, "You counted cards…you suck at cards. I'm not so surprised that you could count cards, just that you could hide your glee at winning long enough not to get caught. You aren't exactly known for your poker face. How did you learn the techniques of counting cards and how the casinos try to beat card counters?"

"Did you really think that I was working the entire time I've been glued to my pad? Nope, been learning how to win at Blackjack." Rodney preened, quite pleased with himself.

Carson was touching the bandage on his cheek, squinted as he touched a tender area. "Cheated…you cheated and then got us into trouble."

"Well, I'm not playing cards with you any more. Although, I could win all that money from you playing poker." Sheppard chuckled, eliciting a smirk from Rodney.

The server brought their food, setting a large plate of country-fried steak, eggs, and hash browns down in front of Sheppard and Ronon. Carson got eggs Benedict, and Rodney, a ham and cheese omelet. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Carson spoke.

"Aye, this brings to mind nights out at home with the lads; we'd drink, then get so hungry. Sittin' here reminds me of the Tam O'Shantner pub in Ayr on the West coast of Scotland. They had the best Haggis with neeps and tatties topped with whisky cream sauce."

"What's Haggis?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard laughed, "You don't want to know…but then you might like it."

Carson explained Haggis, laughing at the disgusted face Rodney made, and neeps and tatties, better know as potatoes and turnips, to Ronon.

Between mouthfuls of eggs, Ronon said, "Sheep's stomach…we had something like that on Sateda. I would like that."

"Well, you are welcome to it." Rodney shuddered.

"You haven't given us any details about your excursion into the showgirls' dressing room? So, tell us." Sheppard's grin was bordering on evil.

Embarrassed and turning slightly pink, Carson murmured, "Me mum would kill me if she knew I was in that dressing room."

"Carson, you're a grown man. I wouldn't be worrying about your mother." Rodney said.

"Come on, guys, details."

They sat there for another hour, consuming another large pot of coffee, discussing the particulars of Carson and Rodney's night; then took a cab back to Caesar's Palace.

As they were getting off the elevator on their floor, Rodney lamented, "Well, everyone has stitches now, but me."

Carson sneered, "Really, Rodney, not something to wish for."

Ronon slapped him on the back, "Don't worry, McKay; this is only our first night in Las Vegas. You've got plenty of time."

"Colonel, you OK; do you need help?" Carson asked.

"I'm fine, I'll take those pills you left, I promise. And the first person who wakes me in the morning, will need stitches."

The four friends parted, heading for their rooms. Each wondering what adventures the next day would bring.

_End of day one in Vegas…._

* * *

So… looks like it was another typical night for our boys! Hope you enjoyed.

I would like to thank JoeyLuv for reminding me about Evil Knivel's jump, or attempted jump, over the fountains at Caesar's Palace. No question from that point what hotel they would be staying at in Vegas. In addition, thanks to Sherry57, whose Scottish heritage gave me the name of the pub, Tam O'Shantner, in Ayr, Scotland where one can have a plate of "Haggis with neeps and tatties topped with whisky cream sauce." The neeps, tatties, and whiskey cream sauce sound great…not certain about the Haggis. But Ronon would like it!

I asked for suggestions for places to take the guys, and I appreciate all who commented about locations. GateGrr560, I love your location suggestion, and will be heading there after Vegas, (left a clue in this story). Unfortunately, the trip takes place around the US Labor Day holiday, so no snow skiing as one reader suggested…at least, this trip.

Would love to hear other locations or event suggestions…they are only in their first week of a thirty-day leave. Lots of mischief left!

Let me know if you enjoyed Day One of Road Trip: Vegas…Baby, and thanks so much for reading!


	4. Part 3 Vegas  Baby: Day Two

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: Part Three: Vegas…Baby**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: **Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Three…Day Two: 5,356

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **Well, their first day in Vegas was certainly eventful; Sheppard not giving into his injury, and Rodney and Carson getting into a 'wee' mess, as Carson would probably describe it. This segment is shorter, transitional, as the guys enjoy Vegas, but will the fun last?

I never intended on the Vegas leg of their trip being quite this long, but I am working on day three of Vegas…wonder what they are going to get into?

Enjoy, I'd love to hear from you!

* * *

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

**Part 3 Vegas…Baby**

Day 2 

John Sheppard moaned as he rolled onto his back, cursing himself for sleeping on his side. Opening his eyes, he slowly adjusted to the dim light in the nearly darkened room. A slight opening in the heavy drawn drapes allowed a streak of shimmering light to penetrate the darkness. Glittery dust danced along the narrow beam of light, mesmerizing him.

He completely lacked the aspiration to get out of bed, which was extremely abnormal. Most mornings, even on a rare day off, he rose by 0500 hours, usually meeting Ronon for a long run. Today was different, today, he felt like remaining in bed.

Still staring at the dancing speckles of dust, he pondered the events of the last few days and what they had experienced. It already seemed like an eternity, since they pulled out of the warehouse lot in San Francisco, heading for wine country. Sheppard was beginning to believe they were jinxed, so much for a lazy, fun, uneventful vacation. The purpose of the trip was to give them time to relax, allow some of the past five years of endless conflict slip away. In addition, Sheppard and Woolsey wanted to keep Rodney away from the scientists of Area 51. There would have been definitely been bloodshed there.

Bloodshed, there had certainly been bloodshed on this excursion. As usual, the preponderance of shed blood belonged to one Colonel John Sheppard. Sheppard scoffed, reminding himself, 'what did he expect?' They rarely sought trouble; trouble always seemed to track them down.

Sheppard felt anger building inside; anger directed at himself. As irrational as he knew it to be, he felt he should have avoided being stabbed. He should have protected himself better when that biker lunged at him. If he had not been knocked out by pain medication, he would have been with Carson and Rodney last night. He could have prevented the danger they had stumbled into.

He laughed aloud, then yelled at the world, "Who the fuck are you kidding, John? You really think you can keep bad things from happening." His thoughts were racing, "You are not omnipotent; you are a fucking, screwed-up, Air Force jet jockey. People think you are special because you have a freaking abnormal gene; you are so far from special. You're the freaking opposite of special." He tossed back the duvet, sitting up abruptly. A move he very quickly regretted.

Severe pain radiated through his side, nausea overcoming him. He struggled to get out of bed, afraid he was going to throw up, but as the pain faded, the nausea did as well. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, until he began to shiver from the air conditioning blowing over him. Glancing at the clock by the bed, he was stunned to see that it was 10:14 AM. He never slept for that long, unless he was injured; then he remembered, he was injured.

Standing up cautiously, Sheppard padded across the bedroom toward his open suitcase. He tugged a pair of track pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt out, slipping them on. Wandering into the suite's living room, he noticed a tray holding a pot of coffee and a plate of bagels and pastries, resting on the dining room table. Alongside the tray was a note scribbled in Rodney's hand.

_"We're headed to the pool, and don't even think of asking me which pool. This place has too many of them; Garden of Gods…really, how excessively gaudy and pretentious. Carson ordered the food and said for you to eat before you join us, and to take the pills he left. When you wake up, call me."_

'Call me'...crap, that meant Rodney found his phone; Sheppard was really hoping he hadn't been pestering Atlantis. He poured a cup of lukewarm coffee, warming it and a bagel in the microwave. He sat on the couch, flipping on the TV. Ten minutes of news, then he changed the channel until he found a rerun of Criminal Minds, watching until it ended. Grabbing more coffee and a cinnamon roll, he noticed the pills still lying next to the tray. He hesitated, then decided he really didn't want to hurt as he had the day before; reluctantly, he swallowed the pills.

Retrieving his phone from his jacket pocket, he dialed Rodney, surprised when Carson answered. "Carson, why are you answering Rodney's phone?"

"A good morning to you, too, John, and how are you feeling this lovely morning?"

"Uh…sorry, Carson; let me rephrase that, good morning to you. To answer your question, I am feeling better, and before you ask, I took the pills."

"Good, lad; now to answer _your_question, Rodney must have taken his phone from your room this morning, when we delivered the coffee and food for you. I took one of your room keys last night, so I could check on you without disturbing your sleep. When we got to the pool, Rodney immediately started to call Atlantis. Ronon snatched the phone from him; let's just say Rodney was a bit miffed. Ronon then gave it to me when he decided to jump into the water. Wait 'til you see him, laddie, Ronon's having a wee bit of fun."

"Which pool are you at?"

"I believe it's called the Neptune…we're on the far side from the entrance, Rodney rented us a cabana."

"OK, I'll join you guys shortly."

Sheppard hung up and debated on whether to take a shower, but decided it would sap too much energy out of him. Rummaging for his swim trunks and sandals, he stripped out of his clothes, put on the trunks and a short sleeve t-shirt. Grabbing his sunglasses, iPod, and room key, along with another cinnamon roll, he headed for the pool.

It was the Friday of a holiday weekend, and the hotel was brimming with tourists. The weather was beautiful, already nearing 80 degrees. Sheppard was enjoying his stroll through the multiple pool area the hotel called the Garden of the Gods and Rodney called pretentious. Not only were the pools beautiful, but the bikinis scattered about were as well. He asked a pool attendant for directions to the Neptune and soon spotted Rodney and Carson. Carson was lying on a large blue cushioned lounger in the sun, and Rodney had tucked his lounger as far under the cabana awning as it would go.

Rodney ignored him. The scientist was immersed in his pad, only glancing up when Sheppard jostled his chair as he passed by, heading to the unoccupied lounge chair next to Rodney.

"That's mature, Sheppard; 'bout time you got up and joined the wide-awake."

"Can you get any further under the cabana, McKay?"

"I refuse to become sunburned."

"Nice shiner, it flatters you." Sheppard chuckled, as Rodney grimaced at him.

Sheppard laid his things down on the small glass side table, glancing at Carson.

"Dr. Beckett, I suspect you have had a bit too much sun already. However, I must say, you are turning an enchanting shade of pink."

Rodney taunted, "I've been trying to tell him, but he's pig-headed and won't listen to me."

Carson lifted his head, looking down at his reddened chest. "Aye, laddie, I suspect you might be correct; I do believe I have had quite enough sunshine for now." He rose, moving over to a lounge chair underneath the white tent. When Sheppard stood to help him scoot the chair around, Carson raised his hand.

"Stop, John; you are forbidden to do anything strenuous today. I'll not have you ripping those stitches again; now, sit down, relax, and behave yourself."

Chastised, Sheppard sat down, slowly swinging his long legs onto the lounge chair. He had barely settled in when an attendant was at his chair-side asking if he wanted something to drink. He ordered bottled water and then lay back in the comfortable chair.

Carson settled in his lounge chair, and picking up a glass, took a long sip of what Sheppard thought was a Bloody Mary. The doctor noticed Sheppard looking at him, "How are ya feeling?"

"Good," Sheppard replied; however, Carson didn't appear convinced. Sheppard continued, "Really, Carson, I feel much better. My ribs don't hurt as badly as they did yesterday, and my head's much clearer; I'm fine."

"Well, that's good, but you are still resting today, nothing strenuous."

Sheppard changed the subject, "How the injury?"

Carson touched his cheek, "Tender, bruised, but otherwise, I'm fine, too."

The attendant arrived with an ice-cold bottle of water, along with a glass full of ice and tiny plate of sliced lemons. As Sheppard was opening the bottle, he noticed that Ronon was not in sight.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked, and in reply, Rodney pointed toward the pool.

It took Sheppard a moment to spot Ronon through the crowded pool. The Satedan was standing in the shallow end of the pool, surrounded by several young women. A small net had been placed into the pool; Ronon and his bevy of girls were playing an energetic game of volleyball against a group of young men.

"Well," Sheppard chuckled, "it appears our boy's doing OK for himself."

Carson snickered, "Yeah, he was watching the lassies and lads playing, and the boys were winning. They were also gloating because the wee lassies were playing so badly. Ronon decided to even the odds, much to the dismay of the laddies."

"Well, that's not good…for the boys, but the girls sure seem to be enjoying the help."

Sheppard and Beckett spent the next half-hour watching Ronon single-handedly defeat the guys, while the young women squealed with delight. Ronon finally decided that he had had enough, and left the pool, this time to the dismay of the girls. Sheppard chuckled as he watched the girls follow Ronon's exit from the pool then turn back to look at the guys. Frowning in unison, the girls climbed out of the pool; the guys reluctantly following, looking quite dejected. Poor kids, he thought; in the girls' eyes, the young men just didn't measure up to Ronon.

Ronon grabbed a towel to dry off, but first he shook his head as a dog might, sending droplets of cool water throughout the cabana. Sheppard and Carson laughed, while Rodney sputtered something about being careful.

Sitting down on the end of Carson's lounge chair, Ronon grinned at Sheppard, "So, you decided to get up."

"Didn't have anything better to do this morning; you, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely, Sheppard teased.

Ronon peered toward the lounge chairs on the far side of the pool where the young people had gathered. "Yeah, well; I never liked bullies, and those guys were just a bit too full of themselves."

Beckett, who had just ordered his second Bloody Mary of the day, giggled, "Those lassies are quite enamored with you. As for the laddies, I don't think they like you very much."

As Ronon plopped down on a lounge chair next to Beckett, a server brought a platter of sliders, mini-tacos, and Buffalo wings. Sheppard looked at Rodney, "You hungry again?"

"Bite me, Sheppard; yes, I am hungry." Clumsily, Rodney reached for a slider, his eyes still glued to his pad. He managed to poke his finger into a taco, before he snagged a little burger.

Sheppard was watching him, "Rodney, what are you doing? You aren't working, are you?"

"No, flyboy; I am not working. As a matter of fact, I'm having fun."

Beckett moaned, "Yeah, the last time you had 'fun' on that thing, you thought you had become a card shark and look where that got us."

Rodney looked up from his pad, "Well, I won, didn't I?"

"Winning isn't everything, McKay." Sheppard mumbled, having stuffed a mini-taco, followed quickly by a slider, into his mouth.

Rodney sniped, "Really, Sheppard? Those are big words coming from a man who got royally pissed off when Sergeant Johnston beat the crap out of you at basketball."

"Hey, Johnston's got nearly four inches and about fifty pounds on me; besides, I didn't have any idea someone that big could be so damn quick. The fact is Johnston fouled me on the way to that basket, which won the game. Jeffers screwed up and didn't call it; that's why I lost."

"Yeah, yeah, winning doesn't matter; I get it." Rodney rolled his eyes, and reached for a wing only to find Ronon's fingers wrapped around the last one. "Hey, I wanted one of those."

Ronon laughed, as he ate the last wing, then licked his fingers, "Shouldn't have been running your mouth, McKay.

Rodney frowned, sighing deeply, and muttered, "Whose bright idea was it to go on this trip?"

Sheppard grinned, "It was my idea, Rodney. Why, aren't you having fun yet?"

Expecting a snarky remark in return, Sheppard was shocked when Rodney yelled, "Yes!"

"You are having fun, Rodney? " Beckett asked, as surprised as Sheppard.

Rodney beamed, "I am now. He was positively gleeful, "I just scored four great tickets to tonight's Celine Dion concert at the Colosseum for us."

"Oh, crap," Sheppard sank back on the lounger, a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

Rodney sat up, "That's your comment, Sheppard, 'Oh, crap.' Great critique from a man who likes Johnny Cash…you don't have a clue about good music."

Ronon was puzzled, "Who's Celine – whatever?"

"A scrawny Canadian chick, who screams instead of sings…" Sheppard replied, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Rodney snarled, "You know, Sheppard; you don't have to come with us if you don't want. However, I am a fan, and I want to see her perform."

Beckett interjected, "I like her, too, Rodney. It will be fun, and I, for one, am looking forward to seeing her in concert."

"No, no, Rodney, we'll all go. Ronon's never been to a concert, so he might as well see an over-the-top Vegas concert first."

"Colonel, if you're going, you need to rest this afternoon."

"Carson, I'm not five; I don't need a nap."

"Laddie, you will take a nap, and that is that." Beckett was looking at him with the expression Sheppard loathed. The expression that clearly meant, _'I_ can make you.' The reality was Sheppard knew he would listen to Carson when he wouldn't listen to anyone else. He simply preferred Carson remain unaware of that miniscule fact.

"I'm resting right now, Carson…this is my nap." Sheppard closed his eyes, turned on his IPod, and, to his later surprise, fell asleep within a few minutes. He was never aware of the satisfied smile that crossed the good doctor's face.

For the next hour or so, the four friends all napped as the heat from the bright sun warmed the air. It was nearly 1:30 PM, when Sheppard woke. For a moment, he felt disoriented as the sounds from the pool seeped into his hearing, crowding out a disturbing dream about the Wraith. He fought against the memory, so many dark memories. Opening his eyes, he discovered Rodney staring at him.

"You OK, Sheppard? You mumbled in your sleep, and you look like you've seen a ghost," there was an unmistakable note of concern in McKay's voice.

Sheppard sat up, suppressing a wince from the pain in his ribs; with Rodney watching him so closely he didn't want to admit his side hurt. He casually reached for his bottle of water on the small table, not giving into the pain. "I'm fine, Rodney; just didn't realize where I was when I first woke up. What time is it?"

Rodney told him and Sheppard continued, "I'm hungry, we need to get lunch." He spotted an open chair, where Beckett had been sitting, "Where's Carson?"

"He went upstairs for something, said he'd be right back."

Reacting to the sound of their voices, Ronon stirred from his nap, "Uh….went to sleep."

Sheppard chuckled, "Seems to be contagious today, big guy; must be the heat. You hungry? Wait…wrong person to ask. Rodney…OK, again, wrong person to ask. I think it's safe to say you could both eat, and I'm hungry. What do you say when Carson returns we find some real food?"

Ronon nodded, "Yeah, I could eat."

"OK, it's settled then, we eat." Sheppard leaned back onto the soft cushion, and took a sip of water. He forced himself to relax, knowing this vacation was supposed to be about relaxing.

Five minutes later, Carson returned, "I see you lads are finally awake. I was correct, wasn't I, colonel? You definitely needed a nap."

Sheepishly, Sheppard answered, "OK, OK… I'll admit I fell asleep; I imagine it was just the heat that made me sleepy."

"Yes, of course, John; getting stabbed certainly didn't take anything out of you." Carson snipped.

Sheppard started to frown, then changed his mind, "Hungry, Carson? We're planning lunch." When Carson nodded, Sheppard continued, "Didn't I see a Margaritaville across the street when we came in?"

Rodney nodded, "Yeah, Carson dragged me in there last night for drinks."

"That settles it, let's go; I have a hankering for a 'cheeseburger in paradise.'"

The men gathered their things and left the pool area, walking through the casino and lobby. With Sheppard in the lead, they exited the hotel.

"Shouldn't we change clothes, John?" Beckett asked.

"Nah, we all have on swim trunks that look like shorts, and have on t-shirts, although I am somewhat unnerved by Rodney's 'I'm With Genius' shirt. Really, could you have any bigger ego?"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Sheppard laughed, "You need to find a new insult line, Rodney. That one's becoming way too comical." He stepped off the curb and veered to the right of the fountains, heading for the pedestrian bridge.

"Where the hell are you going?" Rodney asked.

"I'm going to the pedestrian bridge that spans the Strip. Didn't you notice it when we arrived? Beats crossing at the main intersection leading into the hotel; you can get killed trying to cross the Strip there, especially on a holiday. The pedway does take us a block up from the restaurant, but it's certainly safer. Besides, the pedway provides a great view of the Strip from above."

Carson smacked Rodney on the shoulder, "Rodney, why didn't you know about the bridge? You should have seen it when we got here; you nearly got me killed last night trying to cross the street."

"Me? I wasn't the moron who wasn't paying attention, who was too overwhelmed by the bright lights, to see a car coming; besides, who saved your life?" Rodney snipped back.

As the two continued to bicker, Sheppard and Ronon picked up their pace, putting a bit of distance between them and their friends. Within a few minutes, they were crossing the bridge and on the other side of the street walking past the Flamingo Hotel, heading toward Margaritaville. When they arrived at the restaurant, McKay and Beckett were still sniping at each other. Sheppard stopped outside the entrance.

"OK, enough with the squabbling or I swear I will make you wait out here for a doggie bag." That Sheppard was in command, despite being on leave, was not in dispute. When no one answered him, Sheppard entered the restaurant, his friends in tow.

From the moment that he entered the cozy restaurant, island Calypso music floating in the air, Ronon appeared spellbound. Sheppard smiled, as he watched Ronon's gaze track from the fake palm trees to the full sized seaplane hanging from the ceiling. The host seated them in a comfortable booth and handed them menus. Sheppard scanned his menu, glancing up to see Ronon still staring at the décor. Ronon's face reflected the pleasure he was experiencing with all the new things he was seeing. Sheppard sighed; the thing he was enjoying most about this trip was seeing everything new through someone else's eyes; it was a very rewarding feeling.

"Like this place, Chewie?"

Ronon smiled broadly, "Yeah; I do. What kind of music is playing?"

Sheppard smiled back, "Well, it certainly isn't Celine Dion, " throwing a snarky grin toward Rodney, who retuned the gesture. "I had a feeling you might like this; I think you might be a natural Parrothead."

"Parrothead, what's that? Ronon asked.

The server arrived with their drinks and after they all ordered cheeseburgers, Sheppard explained what a Parrothead was and who Jimmy Buffett was. Ronon was very intrigued, "I like this music. You say this is a kind of lifestyle.

Sheppard rocked his head, "Well, it a form of relaxation more than lifestyle; at least, that's what I think. People who are fans of Buffett and consider themselves Parrotheads, still go about their normal daily lives. Parrotheads are from all walks of life; lawyers, doctors, accountants..."

"Flyboys?" Rodney smirked.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, Rodney; I'm a Parrothead. Have most of Buffett's music on my IPod, and before you ask, not one Celine Dion song."

Cheeseburgers were served and as they ate, the guys debated the merits of Buffett, Cash, Dion, and Tom Jones, Beckett's favorite. As they got up from the table, Ronon declared he wanted to go to Key West. Sheppard smiled, and promised they would go there at some point. They made a quick visit to the restaurant gift shop before they left, loading up on t-shirts, flip-flops, caps, CD's for Ronon, and a straw hat for Sheppard.

Heading back to the hotel, via the pedway, Beckett started teasing Sheppard, 'Well, laddie, for once, your hair is under control. Looks like that hat's tamed it and hidden it away."

Sheppard teased back, "Doctor, you hurt my feelings; what's wrong with my hair?"

Rodney laughed aloud, "Ha; you really aren't serious, are you? What's wrong with your hair? Have you looked in a mirror? Your hair sticks straight up, Sheppard; I imagined you've noticed."

"I have a couple of bad cowlicks, never been able to get it under control. My dad hated my hair; my mom tried to keep it laying flat, then after.., my dad made…." He stopped abruptly, silent for just a second as he realized what he was saying. He continued, "Look who's talking, McKay. At least, I have hair."

Sheppard's brief, and exceedingly rare, mention of his parents had not gone unnoticed by his friends. However, they seemed to sense his discomfort at his own candor, and they were silent as they walked down the stairs from the pedway.

Turning onto the hotel drive, Sheppard spoke, "Rodney, there's a dress code for the Colosseum. I don't think any of us brought the proper clothes, so we need to go shopping. I detest shopping for clothes, but Ronon needs something dressier, and I need a pair of dress slacks. Next stop, the Forum Shops."

As they entered the ornate, Roman themed shopping mall on the hotel grounds, Beckett complained, "I don't want to get dressed up."

Sheppard slapped him on the shoulder, "Not dressed up, just nice slacks, a jacket and shirt, no ties, I promise. I think the dress code is 'elegantly casual', whatever the hell that means. Come on, there's Hugo Boss; we'll go there."

Sheppard emerged from the dressing room, having decided on the slacks he wanted. He heard Beckett talking to the salesperson. "Well, there is no sense in my buying these if ya canna get them altered before tonight."

"Problem, Carson?"

The salesperson answered, "I'm sorry, sir, but he insists that these pants be altered today; we can't possibly do that."

"Really? I tell you what, put everyone's purchases, as well as any alterations on this card, and have them delivered to our rooms no later than 6:30 PM." He handed a dark credit card to the salesperson, who immediately smiled, "Of course, Mr. Sheppard. I'll see to everything."

Beckett stuttered, "Y-you don't need to buy these for me, John; I can pay for them, and I will. I just don't understand why that salesperson agreed to do the alterations in time for you and not for me?"

Sheppard frowned, holding up the card, "Unfortunately, Carson, money talks and this little plastic card, the Centurion card, speaks a lot of bullshit. There is one lesson that my father taught me very well. If you throw enough money at a problem, anything is fixable. That was certainly his philosophy. This credit card represents the life I chose to walk away from a long time ago. However, I'm not stupid; sometimes, it's handy to have." He flashed a sly grin, as his left eyebrow rose, "Today, it came in handy."

Carson smiled, "John, can ya put a few new shirts on there for Rodney, something not from the 1980's?"

"I could, but then what would we have to tease him about?"

By 6:30 PM, their new, and newly altered, clothing and shoes had been delivered, and promptly, at 7:00 PM, the four men met at the elevator to walk over to the Colosseum. All of them were wearing jackets, dress slacks, and nice shoes; Sheppard had actually shaved.

"Well, I must say, we dress up quite nicely, " Beckett was preening.

"Sheppard even has his hair sort of under control," McKay quipped.

Ronon growled lowly, apparently he hadn't forgotten Sheppard's earlier discomfort over his hair. He leaned down, whispering to the scientist. "If you don't shut up about his hair, McKay; I'll get you under control." Rodney's eyes widened and he paled slightly; he wisely didn't say anything more about Sheppard's hair.

Entering the Colosseum, Rodney picked up their tickets at the on-call window, and an usher seated them on the second row, center stage. Sheppard remarked, "Good seats, McKay. How did you swing this on such short notice?"

"You're not the only one with contacts in high places; I know someone at the local university, UNLV. He's a chemist, dean of the science department, and an old friend. I remembered him once telling me that his wife's a casino exec., so I emailed him and asked if he could help me out with tickets to this concert. He came through; or at least, his wife did."

Sheppard deadpanned, "Wow, McKay, that's amazing." McKay looked quite satisfied with himself at Sheppard's response. Satisfied, at least, until the colonel continued, "Who knew you had friends?" McKay quickly became ruffled, even more so at the snickering from Beckett.

Chuckling at his friend's reaction, Sheppard smacked Rodney's arm with the program. "Don't get all pissy, McKay; I'm kidding, you did good."

Two hours later, as they left the Colosseum at the conclusion of the show, they all agreed, Celine Dion was an incredible entertainer. Rodney and Carson were giddy. They were nearly gushing at her performance, still chattering as they reached the hotel lobby.

Sheppard stopped, "OK, hang on, you can discuss how brilliant Celine was in a minute. We need to decide where we're going for dinner. I, for one, am hungry…."

"Me, too; I don't know why we had to wait until after the concert to eat," Rodney interjected.

Slightly annoyed, Sheppard continued, "Rodney, by the time we got back to our rooms, rested (throwing a look toward Beckett, who smirked), and cleaned up, we didn't have time. Besides, you've eaten all day; you are not going to waste away or suffer from hypoglycemia, so stop whining. I'm going to ask the concierge to recommend a good steakhouse. I want steak." Sheppard walked away, somewhat gingerly, toward the concierge desk.

"Hey, doc, watch Sheppard, he's favoring his side again. He's hurting and he won't admit it."

Beckett sighed deeply, "It's a good bet that stubborn lad didn't take his meds this afternoon. Do either of you know whether he did or not?" Both men shook their head and Beckett sighed again, "That lad is going to drive me to drink."

"More than you already do, Carson?" Rodney teased.

Before Carson could reply, Sheppard motioned for them to join him. They followed him outside, where the doorman hailed a cab for them. Once seated inside the taxi, Beckett asked, "Colonel, did you take the pills I gave you after lunch?"

Sighing, Sheppard pursed his lips, "Cut me some slack, doc. I'll take the pills when I need them; I promise."

It was Beckett's turn to sigh, "I take that as a no. Well, you can take them when we get to the restaurant."

"Shucks, doc; left them in my room."

"No fear, laddie, I have some with me." Sheppard's face fell as Beckett's brightened.

"Can't win with you, can I?" Sheppard asked, dejectedly.

Ronon said, "You should learn not to try, Sheppard." Sheppard stared at Ronon but didn't have a reply; the Satedan was right.

The taxi turned onto Flamingo Road, then a few blocks later onto Paradise Road, pulling into the parking lot of the Del Frisco's Double Eagle Restaurant. Rodney paid the taxi driver, and as they walked into the restaurant, he remarked.

"Well, at least there aren't any motorcycles in this steakhouse parking lot. Maybe we won't get into a fight with a bunch of bikers tonight."

"Dream on, McKay, dream on." Sheppard opened the door and entered the elegant restaurant. Gleaming dark wood trim decorated the dining area, the classic wood bar forming the centerpiece of the restaurant.

Sheppard spoke to the maitre d, who welcomed them, "Colonel Sheppard, Caesar's concierge called requesting a table for you. Please come with me." He escorted them to a nice table in a corner.

Sheppard noticed Ronon gazing around the restaurant, as he had earlier at Margaritaville. "Not quite the same as where we had lunch, is it?"

Ronon was quiet, "You know, we had restaurants on S…at home, most were rustic, some were nice. I wonder if we had…had the time…that we would have had places like what I have seen today."

Sheppard was at a loss for words; he glanced over at Rodney, whose expression indicated he was also tongue-tied. Beckett, however, didn't hesitate to reply. "Aye, lad; it's a shame that your home didn't have the opportunity to develop. But as long as you hold their memories, what you did achieve will not be forgotten."

Ronon nodded; Sheppard was relieved that the server came to take their order, changing the subject. Once their drinks arrived, Beckett placed two pills next to Sheppard's water and tapped the table. Sheppard frowned, but swallowed the pills.

He decided to needle Carson a bit in return. "Damn, I forgot to order the turtle soup. Did you see that was on the menu, Carson?"

"Colonel, you are never going to let me forget my wee turtles, are you?"

Sheppard began laughing and after a couple of seconds, Carson joined him.

Rodney leaned on the table, "So, you enjoyed the concert didn't you? Despite all the whining, you liked it," Rodney's remarks were clearly aimed at Sheppard.

"Enjoy it, you think I enjoyed it?" Sheppard laughed, "Yes, Rodney, I did; she puts on a hell of a show. I'm actually surprised; but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The music was tremendous and the costuming…the costuming was…very nice."

Beckett smiled dreamily, "Yeah, that blue dress…that blue dress was something."

Ronon, a mischievous grin on his face, replied, "Sheppard was right. She's a bit scrawny for my taste, but that blue dress was…nice." Sheppard and McKay nodded in agreement. Ronon added very seriously, "I still like the Parrothead music better."

Sheppard laughed, "Me, too; but Rodney's right, his fellow Canadian was pretty damn good tonight."

The rest of their evening was spent talking about the concert, music in general, Ronon asking about Key West, and enjoying the delicious food. As they waited for a cab to return to Caesars, Sheppard slouched against the building, watching his friends. Ronon, Rodney, and Carson were continuing the dinner conversation, arguing about the merits of Dion vs. Buffett. This had been a good day. Exactly, the kind of day he had envisioned, when he decided they needed a break. A good day filled with relaxing fun, excellent food, and most importantly, spent with three friends, who he treasured. As the cab pulled up, he wondered if tomorrow would bring the same quiet, enjoyable day.

Two in a row would be a miracle.

_End of Vegas Day Two…_

* * *

As I said at the beginning, this was a transitional day; I thought the guys needed a relaxing, fun day occasionally during their leave. I can't whump them everyday…well, I could, but I think their leave would be over very quickly. The question is, can they have two uneventdays in a row?

Hope you enjoyed. I would love to hear what you thought about Vegas and Road Trip so far.

Don't forget, that I am marking this story as complete, because I


	5. Part 3 Vegas Baby Day 3 and Beyond

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: Part Three: Vegas…Baby**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Three…Day Three and Beyond: 21,117 words.

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **It's the morning of 'Day 3 of the boys Vegas Adventure'…the day is filled with fun, but once night falls….well…..things change.

To all of you who sent me PM's about the next segment, I apologize for the delay, sometimes real life is a pain. Thanks so much for your interest in the story. I hope you enjoy Vegas…Baby, Day 3 and Beyond as much as I've had fun writing it.

Enjoy, I'd love to hear from you!

**ROAD TRIP**

_by stella_pegasi_

**Part Three Vegas, Baby…**

**Day Three: Daytime**

"Come on, McKay, get up."

Sheppard scowled, glancing at Ronon, "He hung up on me."

John Sheppard and Ronon Dex were standing outside Rodney McKay's room, attempting to wake Atlantis' chief scientist. Ronon was pounding on the door, while Sheppard called the room phone, again.

"What the fuck do you want, Sheppard?" A groggy McKay grumbled into the phone.

"I want you to get out of bed; we have places to go."

"Well, what I want is for you to go away, and leave me alone, and would you please tell Conan to stop pounding on my door. I know that's him."

"Nope, sorry, not going to happen; now open the door. We're going to grab breakfast, then it's off to have an adventure."

"It's fucking 7:00 AM, go away."

"No; now open the door like a good boy, McKay." Sheppard hung up on the scientist, smiling at Ronon. "He's getting up."

As Sheppard predicted, the door to McKay's suite flung open, revealing a very sleepy looking Rodney McKay. Sheppard and Ronon brushed past him into the living room, Sheppard heading for the window.

"What the…what do you want, Sheppard?"

"Go get dressed, McKay; we're in a hurry, "

Sheppard tugged the bulky drapes apart. The suite's living room flooded with sunlight, as Rodney continued to whine, repeating his mantra of what was Sheppard thinking waking him up so early. Sheppard turned around to chide Rodney about getting dressed, but forgot what he was going to say when he saw Rodney in the bright light.

"Rodney, what in the hell are those?"

Rodney glanced down at the bright yellow pajama pants he was wearing, then at Sheppard, somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, Madison gave me these for my birthday."

"Those pajama's are covered with happy faces, all over them, McKay." Sheppard shuddered, scrunching his face, as if he sucked on a very sour lemon.

"I know; Madison thinks I don't smile enough. She and Jeannie were shopping when she spotted these pajamas and insisted on buying them for me. Jeannie was more than happy to oblige her, and before you say something snarky, Jeannie made all the snide comments I need to hear about them."

"Get dressed, wear jeans, a zip-up jacket, and sneakers, you'll be more comfortable; meet us in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

Rodney flopped down on the couch, "Exactly where are you dragging us today?"

Sheppard answered, an impish grin spreading across his face, "The desert."

Rodney groaned.

"I'll ask you again, exactly where the hell are we going." Rodney mumbled through a mouthful of bacon, egg cheese biscuit he ordered at McDonalds.

"I told you, already; we're headed for the desert. You'll find out more when we get there."

"I hate you: you get me up from a sound sleep, drag me to a fast food restaurant, and won't tell me where we're going…really." He was still mumbling.

"Rodney, how much food did you get; everyone else finished eating five minutes ago."

"I only ordered two bacon and egg biscuits and two hash brown thingies."

Carson shook his head, "How could you eat that much this morning after the dinner you had last night? You had more to eat this morning than Ronon."

"I was hungry," Rodney retorted.

"Hey, doc, don't worry, doc; Rodney will be working that big breakfast off shortly."

"What does that mean, working breakfast off? Don't tell me we are going on some horseback jaunt through the desert, or something nonsensical as that."

Sheppard caught Rodney's eye in the rear view mirror, "Just wait, and you'll see."

Sheppard laughed, knowing that Rodney was not going to be happy when he found out what he had planned for the morning. Briefly, after waking up early, he had considered running and not telling Carson. He decided not to run; somehow, the good doctor always knew when he did what he wasn't supposed to do. He cruised the internet for a while looking possible destinations for the rest of the trip when he stumbled onto a website of an attraction near Vegas. That's when he began to wake up everyone.

The colonel was feeling much stronger, the pain in his side considerably less than the day before. He swallowed a couple of Advil before he left and had knocked down the residual pain. Now behind the wheel of the Rover, he was heading with his friends for what he thought was going to be a fun adventure. Fun, because the adventure sounded fun, and because Rodney was likely to whine like a five-year-old when they arrived.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a company called Bootleg Canyon Flightlines. Sheppard parked next to the building, and announced they had arrived at their destination.

"What is this place; flightlines, what the hell are flightlines? Don't tell me, you drug us out here to go flying."

Sheppard appeared quite pleased with himself, "These flightlines are cables suspended over the canyon. It's really cool; you sit in a harness and slide down the cable while suspended in the air."

"_You _can sit in a harness, flying across some silly desert canyon; not me." McKay sagged back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

Sheppard's opened his door, looking over the seat at the reluctant McKay. "Oh yes, McKay; you are so going to do this. Come on, everyone let's go do some flying." He hopped out of the car, feeling only a slight twinge in his side.

Carson and Ronon followed Sheppard out of the Rover; however, Rodney didn't budge. Sheppard caught Ronon's eye and within seconds, Ronon had opened the car door, unbuckled McKay's seatbelt, and hauled him out onto the parking lot, sputtering. Sheppard headed toward the front door of Bootleg Canyon Flightlines; the others fell in line behind him.

"Exactly what makes you think I am going to do this fool stunt."

"Because it's fun and because I asked you; besides, it's a good bonding experience, Rodney."

"Bonding experience, who are you, some sort of corporate guru, Sheppard; team bonding, perfect."

"We're doing this."

Carson tugged at Sheppard's sleeve, "Colonel, how strenuous is this flightline ride? I'm not certain it is something you should do."

Sheppard sighed, "All you do is sit in a harness and ride to the bottom, not strenuous at all."

" Are you sure about this, colonel; I mean, I'm not fond of heights." Carson appeared nervous.

"Piece of cake, Carson; I'd never have you do anything that was dangerous," Sheppard grinned.

After undergoing orientation from the Flightlines' guides, the Atlantians, along with a family of six, took the shuttle ride to the launch point on top of the canyon. They hiked a short distance to the launch platform and waited while the father and the two pre-teen boys were strapped into harnesses. The trio stepped off the platform and began the long slide down the canyon, shouting with glee as they descended. Sheppard chuckled silently as he watched McKay; the scientist did not look happy. Next, the mother and apparent grandparents were strapped into the harnesses and followed. The same sounds of delight trailed behind them.

"Come on, Rodney; let's get harnessed up." Sheppard slapped him on the back.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Rodney, surely you are not afraid to do this. I mean, after all you've been through, you can't be scared of a zipline?" 

Rodney gazed around the mountains and ridges that surrounded them, "Have you seen how high we are up this mountain?"

"Yes, and it's beautiful; you can see Vegas and Lake Mead from here. You will enjoy the scenery; get in the harness, McKay, let loose a little."

"'Let loose', that's funny Sheppard, 'let loose'. We are about to risk our lives, tethered to a thin stand of metal, and you use the term 'let loose.' You are one sadistic flyboy."

Ronon walked over to Rodney and grabbed him by the collar, "Let's go, little man; this'll be fun."

"Relax, Rodney; we are all going to go down together, so we'll witness your demise." Beckett was already harnessed and waiting on the platform. "It really pretty up here, reminds me of Scotland, " he paused, "well not really, Scotland is green"

Within five minutes, all four men were ready to go, standing on the edge of the launch platform. The guide made one last check, giving Sheppard the thumbs up. Sheppard looked at his team, "We go on three." Sheppard counted down and even reluctant Rodney pushed off from the platform. They were flying.

As they slid along the steel cable, Ronon began to creep ahead of them, his heavier weight pulling him down faster. Sheppard was slightly in front of Rodney, with Carson, the smallest of them, trailing a tad behind. The sky was crystal blue; the mountains around them burnt red, dark brown. Grayish-beige sand dotted with scrub brush dominated the scenery.

Turning to look slightly behind him, Sheppard could see Rodney. The scientist was calmer than he had expected him to be. Especially, considering the fact that McKay had closed his eyes, his face scrunched tightly as soon as he stepped onto the launch platform. Now, his eyes were open, gazing at the scenery, a contented look on his face.

Sheppard concentrated on the amazing view. In the distance, he could see the sparkling blue water of Lake Mead tucked between the mountains, to his right, Sin City, the Stratosphere towering over the tall hotels. Las Vegas, so overpowering when on its streets, looked small and unobtrusive from above the canyon. Above the wind, he could hear Ronon's yelps of joy, and Carson's giggles. He chuckled as he thought about the Scottish doctor. Carson Beckett, full of trepidation, was giggling from the sheer delight of the flightline. Sheppard knew one thing; he was having the time of his life. Only the reverberation of the buffeting wind and the drifting voices of his teammates permeated the silence, the warm morning sun bathing his face. For the first time since they left Atlantis, he felt relaxed, at peace; he was flying.

The trip to the canyon basin consisted of four segments. After reaching the first landing pad, they hiked a short distance to the next launch pad. Ronon positively bounded toward the pad, Carson right behind him, as Sheppard fell in step next to Rodney.

"Having fun yet, McKay?"

"Oh, loads," McKay didn't look at him as he spoke, "Seems like Carson's enjoying himself."

"Yeah; I think he is and so is Ronon. Enjoy this Rodney, its pure adrenaline on a cable; don't you like the wind in your face, the gorgeous scenery?"

"You just like flying through the air."

Sheppard laughed, "Yeah…I do; it's an exhilarating experience. As hard as you try to pretend, I know you're having fun; you just don't want to admit it."

They were stepping up on the next pad, and Rodney gave Sheppard a slight, impish grin, "Well…it isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

They jumped from the pad, gliding down the next segment, and repeating the process until they reached the final landing zone. The last segment was steeper than the previous ones, and they traveled at a much faster rate. The speed had only served to increase their euphoria.

Ronon was grinning as they walked back to their vehicle, "That was awesome; I wouldn't mind doing that again. Can we rig something like that up on Atlantis? That would be so cool."

Carson laughed, "I believe that's the most words you have ever uttered at one time, laddie. I think you enjoyed the ride; I did, as well. Thanks, John, for bringing us here."

Sheppard was climbing into the Rover, "Come on; time to return to civilization...," he laughed, "well, I guess Vegas can be called civilization."

After stopping to fill up the Rover and get Ronon a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, they began the return trip to Vegas. Rodney had chosen to sit in the back seat, concentrating on his pad. Sheppard noticed but decided to leave the scientist alone, he had put him through enough already, and it wasn't noon yet.

Carson was in the front with Sheppard. "You know, laddie; the flightline was fun. I wasn't sure what to expect, but that was amazing."

"Yeah, it was fun; I've done ziplines in training before, but this time, it was just for the fun of it. I thought you guys might enjoy it."

Ronon mumbled, "I want to do that again."

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, "Chewie…you eating again?" He grinned as Ronon held up a package of chocolate cupcakes.

Carson asked Sheppard, "How are you feeling after this morning's activities?

The colonel glanced sideward, a resigned expression on his face, "I'm fine, really; sore, but fine. My head's clear, no dizziness, pain in my side has lessened; wound's beginning to itch, that's a good sign."

"That's good, John, but you should rest, nothing strenuous for a couple more days. I'll need to check your stitches sometime today, and redress that wound." He turned, looking at Ronon, "You, too; I need to re-bandage your arm." Ronon nodded in response, still eating his cupcake.

"OK, what would you guys like to do this sunny afternoon in beautiful Las Vegas; gambling, Rodney?"

**Rodney only grumbled, prompting the others to laugh. Carson winked at Sheppard, "Rodney, you're on a roll, you should play blackjack again. I imagine there's a gangster or two you haven't pissed off yet."**

**"Har de har har…Dr. Beckett; you are such a comedian, you should book your act into one of the casino's."**

**Beckett laughed, "I might have a new career, colonel, what do ya think?'**

**"I think that we need to keep Rodney away from the gaming tables, and I think we need to find a cool diner for lunch. So keep your eyes peeled for somewhere to eat. As for this afternoon, if no one else has any other ideas, I accept the position of tour guide. We are going to play tourists."**

**It was just after noon when they arrived back in Las Vegas; Sheppard exited the Las Vegas Freeway onto Flamingo, heading toward the Strip. They had travelled about a mile and a half, when he exclaimed, "Lunch." **

**The Blueberry Hill Family Restaurant was on their right, and Sheppard turned into the parking lot of the busy restaurant. Finding one of the few empty parking places, he pulled in. **

**"I forgot all about this restaurant; when I was training at Edwards, after the Academy, we used to come to Vegas on leave. This was our favorite place to feast after a night of gambling and drinking. The food is great, come on, let's eat."**

**A twenty-minute wait for a table only whetted their appetites as they watched food delivered to the waiting guests. A friendly hostess seated them, paying particular attention to Carson, telling him as she walked away what an adorable smile he had. **

**Rodney was grumpy, "I expected Kirk and Conan would get all the attention from the ladies. But no, it's Carson, who all the ladies seem to like. Really?"**

**Carson snickered, "Rodney, I can't help that that lovely lass liked my smile, or that those showgirls invited me to come back later when they got off work."**

**Rodney sputtered, "They invited me, too. They liked us both since we were doctors.''**

**Sheppard sputtered as well, in response, "Wait, you didn't tell us that the showgirls you ran into asked you come back later. Two Las Vegas showgirls asked you two to join them after their show was over."**

**Preening every so slightly, Rodney said, "Yes, they both did."**

**Sheppard looked at Carson, then at Rodney, "Nope, not letting you two out of my sight, anymore; no telling what trouble you could get into."**

**Rodney grinned that little smirky grin that he always made when he thought he had outdone Sheppard, "You, flyboy, are just mad because Carson and I got the girls, and you didn't. You just want to hang out with us to get our leftovers."**

**"Rodney, what are we, twelve? Besides, you didn't get the girls." **

**"Well, we could have,'' Rodney snarked.**

**Rodney was spared further needling from Sheppard by the arrival of the server who took their orders. While they were waiting, Sheppard was looking over tourist brochures he picked up in an information rack in the restaurant lobby. **

**"Carson, what would you like to see while we are here in Vegas?"**

**"Me mum was an enormous fan of Liberace; she adored his dazzling smile, as she called it, and his glittery, elaborate costumes. She would play his records for hours on end, had a framed photograph of him sitting on the piano. I'd like to visit his museum and find a nice souvenir for her."**

**"Okay, we can do that; Rodney?" When Rodney only stared blankly at him, he pushed a brochure on the Atomic Testing Museum across the table toward the doctor, "Interested?"**

**Sheppard was amused as he watched Rodney's face go from disinterest to quite interested, "So, that's yes, right?" Rodney only nodded, still reading the brochure.**

**"Ronon; as for the two of us, you and I are going to have fun at the Stratosphere Tower. There is a ride there that you might like since you liked this morning so much, it's time for another thrill."**

**Their food arrived and all of them dug into the delicious fare. Sheppard was cutting another bite of chicken fried steak when he noticed Carson watching him, "Doc, what?" **

"I finally believe that you are feeling better; for the last few days, you've ordered food but mostly pushed it around the plate when it arrived, eating very little. I was concerned about how much nutrition you were getting; however, today, you are eating with gusto, and that makes me very happy."

"Thanks for not nagging me about eating; truth was I didn't feel like eating. That's not the case, today; I told you that I felt better."

About thirty minutes later, the well-sated group of friends got back into the Rover, heading for the Atomic** Testing Museum, which was further down Flamingo Road. As they walked into the museum, Sheppard told Rodney that he had one hour. Rodney immediately began to complain but Sheppard repeated, one hour.**

**They began the tour watching a short video about the Nevada Test Site and how it began, then proceeded through the galleries. Ronon enjoyed the Atomic Age Gallery that showed a lot of the pop-culture of the atomic era, then they watched a 10-minute video, which was highly interactive. The room they were in gave them the experience of being close to a bomb blast, featuring bursts of hot air, thunderous sounds, and strong vibrations. Rodney wanted to stay longer, but reluctantly, agreed to leave after buying a couple of books in the gift shop.**

Sheppard headed back east on Flamingo and turned on the S. Maryland Parkway, taking them past the University of Nevada Las Vegas campus. The Liberace Foundation and Museum was a couple of blocks from the university. The front of the museum was gaudy but fun…a wavy piano keyboard, surrounding a round stage that held the metal framework of a piano, Liberace's trademark candelabra on top. They wandered his collection of pianos, costumes, and photographs before Carson selected some CD's and a poster for his mother.

Back in the Rover, Sheppard took them back to Las Vegas Boulevard, heading west toward the airport. As they passed the Stratosphere, Rodney asked, "Hey, weren't you planning on stopping there?"

"Going somewhere else first, then we'll come back; so you guys having fun yet? "

Carson answered, somewhat soberly, "I liked the Liberace museum, and me mum will love the CD's, but that Atomic museum was something. What in the world were we trying to do to ourselves."

"All in the name of war and science, Carson; there were bad people around who led to the development of that technology."

Ronon asked, "Those bombs; they the same thing the Genii have?"

Rodney answered, "The Genii's weren't quite so sophisticated but yes, about the same thing. And Sheppard, don't blame the scientists who developed the weapons, the military abused the technology, using it for dominance."

"McKay, really; you want to blame the military for using the bomb? Nobody wanted to use that damn thing, but it stopped the horror in the Pacific. The military did what they had to do to put an end to that war."

"Defend them if you will, but you know as well as I do that the military is still trying to make every feasible scientific discovery into a weapon. I mean scientists try to do good and the military undoes everything. It's…"

Sheppard interrupted him, "I cannot believe that you think all military…."

It was Carson's turn to interrupt, "Lads, enough; we are on vacation, this is not a debate."

Both Sheppard and McKay quickly looked at Carson, then sheepishly at each other. Sheppard sighed deeply, "You're right; we'll leave that discussion for another day."

No one spoke until Sheppard pulled off the street into a parking lot situated in the median. He parked and motioned for everyone to get out.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," Sheppard said, sweeping his arm out toward a sign which was the focus of the small area.

Carson exclaimed, "Oh that is so cool; I've seen this sign in so many movies and pictures." He pulled out his digital camera and began taking pictures of the iconic sign that had come to symbolize the city. They stayed for a few minutes, Carson managing to get another tourist to take a picture of the four of them under the sign.

The Stratosphere was their next stop. A hotel and casino, the Stratosphere was also home to the most recognizable structure of the Vegas skyline, the observation tower. They parked in the garage, then strolled through the lobby and casino area to the elevators that would take them to the observation lounge.

Sheppard paid the admission price and they exited into the indoor observation deck, then out onto the outside deck. It was late afternoon and the light was golden, the wind reminding them of the mountains from the morning. Above them, the Big Shot thrill ride loomed.

"Ronon, up for a ride," Sheppard grinned, pointing to the tower mast.

Ronon looked up at the people strapped into the seats' overhead, dropping rapidly toward them, "Yeah."

Sheppard turned to Rodney and Carson, ''You guys wanna join us?" He laughed as both backed up a couple of steps, shaking their heads vigorously.

When the next group strapped in, Rodney and Carson were watching nervously from the observation deck. When released, the Big Shot catapulted the passengers to the top of the 1,081-foot mast, then back down before being shot back up again. The carrier made two more trips up and back before gently coming to rest.

Sheppard and Ronon exited the ride, appearing as happy as they had on the flightline adventure in the morning. Both were grinning broadly, faces flushed.

"That was awesome," Ronon said, breathlessly.

Sheppard slapped Ronon on the back, "You just pulled 4-G's, buddy, as if you were flying a fighter jet.

Rodney was standing with his arms crossed, "So, I take it, you two enjoyed yourselves."

Sheppard grinned, "Why, yes, Rodney; we certainly did. I have to say one of the most fun things I have done."

Carson was staring at the mast above the tower, "That is one of the scariest things I have ever seen, laddie. There is no way I would ever do that."

Ronon squeezed Carson's shoulder, "You don't know what you're missing, doc."

"Okay, guys; it's nearly 5:00 PM, I vote for going back to the hotel," Sheppard said.

The others concurred, and Sheppard led the way back to the hotel garage. As he pulled the Rover onto Las Vegas Boulevard, he thought what a great day it had been. Silently, he hoped the upcoming evening was just as much fun.

**Day Three: Nighttime**

John Sheppard walked through the crowded casino toward the Galleria Bar. He had become restless waiting for the others to get ready, and decided to wander down to the lobby. He called Rodney, telling him that he was heading to the bar and would meet them there.

They split up after returning to hotel. It had been a busy but rewarding day; however, Sheppard was exhausted; he hadn't run in a couple of days and the inactivity was catching up with him. He took a two-hour nap, and after waking up, took a long, hot shower. He was getting dressed when Beckett knocked, arriving, as promised, to redress his wound. Beckett had been pleased that he was healing well, then left to check on Ronon's wound. When he spoke to Rodney, the scientist was distracted, said he was working on something and would join them later. Sheppard hoped he wasn't contacting Atlantis. He had elicited a promise from Rodney that he wouldn't call Radek until they were ready to leave Vegas.

Leave Vegas, yeah, he was more than ready to leave Vegas. Even as a young lieutenant on leave, he had never enjoyed more than two to three days of Vegas. Besides, they had done many things that Ronon, Rodney, and he enjoyed; it was time to take Carson Beckett fishing.

Entering the bar, he glanced around, locating a small table surrounded by four chairs and headed for it. A comely server appeared and he ordered a Glenfiddich neat, and relaxed, slouching down in the soft armless chair. He gazed around the room, watching the few patrons, who were in the cozy, quiet bar. Most of the revelers on this holiday weekend were at the more trendy bars, or in the casinos. He liked the quiet jazz combo playing in the corner and the relative solitude of the bar. He was daydreaming about the plans he'd made for Beckett's fishing trip, when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you while I wait for my sister and her husband? Those men over there keep pestering me for a drink, and I don't want to deal with them."

The voice belonged to a very lovely woman, late thirties – early forties, with short, dark hair, and deep brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with him. He smiled slightly, and motioned for her to sit, as the server approached with his drink.

"No problem, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Not to be presumptuous but can I get you a drink?"

She shrugged slightly, "A white wine?" The server nodded and departed for the bartender.

"I'm Michelle, Micki; and thanks, I never like coming to these places alone; people seem to get the wrong ideas."

"I'm John, and a pretty woman walking into a bar unaccompanied in Vegas, or anywhere that matter, always gets someone's attention. There are jerks everywhere."

She blushed slightly at his pretty woman comment, "Yeah, there are definitely jerks, everywhere. Normally, I wouldn't have come down alone, but my sister and brother-in-law were on Skype talking to their kids. I decided to leave them 'oohing and awing' over their son and daughter's latest drawings; so, I made my escape. What brings you to this bar alone, John?

The server quickly returned with her drink. Sheppard waited to answer until she left, "I got a bit impatient waiting for my friends to get organized to come down for dinner."

"So, you're here with friends; how nice. Do you come to Vegas often?"

"No, don't have much opportunity to take time off; haven't been here in a long time."

"But you have been here before?" When Sheppard nodded, she continued, "Maybe you could give us some pointers for things to do here. We just arrived today and none of us has been here before. Maybe you could join us for dinner?" She stumbled over her words, "I mean you and…your friends."

Sheppard swallowed, sitting in front of him was a very nice, and pretty, woman, who obviously had an interest in him. He wasn't going to deny that he found her attractive and wouldn't mind getting to know her better, but that couldn't happen. The need now was to let her down gently.

"I doubt I am qualified to be a tour guide. I imagine that the concierge desk can give you some great ideas of things to do around here, besides gambling. My friends and I are leaving tomorrow, so we won't be much good as tour guides."

He watched as she deflated a tiny bit but recovered quickly. A good trait, he would definitely like to get to know her better, in another life. She took a large gulp of her wine, downing nearly half of it before she continued. As she replied, he saw Carson entering the bar.

"Well, our loss, my brother-in-law couldn't find his way out of the hotel without a map, but he's a good guy, so we overlook it. Yes, I'll check with the concierge for some tips."

Carson walked up, "Colonel, who's your lovely friend?" Carson's smile was wide and mischievous.

"Carson, this is Micki; Micki, this is Carson."

"Nice to meet you, Carson." She looked at Sheppard, looking surprised, "Colonel?"

"Yeah, Air Force," he admitted.

"No wonder you don't have much time to visit Vegas."

Before Sheppard could reply, a couple, who had just entered the bar, called out Micki's name. Picking up her wine, she rose, "There's my sister; thank you, John, for the drink. Hope you and your friends enjoy your trip; bye." She walked away, both men watching her.

"John, did I interrupt something?" Carson was looking at him, still with that mischievous smile that was not quite as wide as before.

Sheppard threw him an annoyed look, "No; you didn't."

Carson sat down, "Well, laddie…I should have been interrupting something. You need to have a little diversion."

"We talked about this, Carson, before we ever left San Francisco, and we all agreed. We would avoid any romantic liaisons on this trip. It isn't fair; we can't continue a relationship here; and none of us cares for one-night stands. Besides, eventually, we are going to be a bit far away to go to dinner or the movies, or be with anyone here. Best we just stay away from those kinds of attachments."

"Aye, laddie, I know all the reasons; but that doesn't make it any less tempting or difficult to walk away from."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sheppard sighed, watching as the lovely Micki left the bar with her family, very difficult indeed.

Carson ordered a scotch, and the two men sat in the quiet bar, waiting for Ronon and Rodney to join them. After about twenty minutes, Sheppard was reaching for his phone to call them, when the phone beeped.

"Finally, it's Rodney," he said to Carson.

"Rodney, where the hell are you?" He listened, then began to rise, "We'll be right there."

"Come on, Carson; Ronon's got a little problem outside his room," Sheppard said, as he began to walk quickly toward the entrance. Confused and concerned, Carson followed.

They ran off the elevator on their floor, to hear Rodney sputtering, "What the hell is your problem?" Down the hall, Rodney was pinned against the wall with his hands behind his back; Sheppard noticed his phone lying on the floor next to him. Four young men surrounded Ronon, two of them grasping Ronon's arms tightly. The young men from the pool. One of them, the one nearly as tall as Ronon, was taunting the Satedan, who was angry but not resisting.

"So, not so quick to show off here, when it's just us guys are you…you freak." He drew back and punched Ronon in the gut. "You made us look like fucking fools in front of our girls, and all they can talk about now is how handsome you are, what a gorgeous body you have, and how we look like ninety-eight pound weaklings next to you. I think we need to teach you a lesson not to mess with other guys' girls."

Ronon, who appeared unfazed by the blow to his abdomen, caught Sheppard's eye. The colonel nodded slightly, and Ronon knew he had his friend's permission to end this. He spoke quietly, "You were treating those girls with dishonor, making fun of their ability to play that game. It made you feel superior to them; but you aren't. You're bullies, who were enjoying bullying the women, who thought you cared about them. I just evened the odds."

"Oh…the big caveman with the creepy hair can talk," the ringleader said, as he noticed Sheppard and Carson. "Not even your friends are a match for us, about time we taught you a fucking lesson."

Sheppard shook his, head, "You're making a mistake," but the angry young man didn't listen. He struck out to slam his fist into Ronon's abdomen again, but this time Ronon reacted.

When it was over, all five young guys were lying on the corridor floor. Sheppard was helping Rodney to his feet, having dispatched the kid, who had held him, while Ronon stood in the middle of the pile, shaking his head, sloughing off his anger. Beckett began to check the prone young men, who were stunned.

Sheppard dropped to his heels next to the young man who started the fracas, "You should have quit while you were ahead. You are not now, and never will be, a match for this man physically or in any other way. You can learn something from this; you can learn to treat the women in your life better. If you do, even Ronon couldn't turn their heads." Sheppard chuckled, "Well, he might turn their heads, but they'd still like you better. Don't think they are going to like you very much after this."

As he stood up, Sheppard saw hotel security rushing to the scene. One of the security officers, walked up to him, "There a problem here?"

Beckett continued checking the guys, who were slowly getting on their feet as Sheppard answered, "No, no problem; a bit of a misunderstanding, but it's over. The kids were just confused about something, but they get it now, right guys?"

The tall one, who had confronted Ronon, took a deep breath, then answered, "We were wrong, everything's cool"

The security officer looked incredulous, but said, "Okay, let's everyone clear this hall." He walked over to the young men who were now standing together, "I remember you guys from last night, you got a little rowdy, and we had to talk to you. When are you checking out?" One of the young men mumbled 'tomorrow' and the security guy continued, laying out the ground rules for allowing them to stay in the hotel.

Sheppard motioned for his team to follow him, and they took the elevator to the lobby. The only talking done by Beckett asking Ronon if he was all right, the doctor's question was met with a stony stare.

Sheppard announced he was hungry and wanted southwestern food, as they got off the elevator, and they walked through the casino toward Mesa Grill. He'd made reservations at 9:00 PM prior to going to the bar, giving Rodney plenty of time; now they were almost late.

They'd ordered and were waiting for their food. Sheppard noticed Ronon looking around, "Still impressed with the décor, Ronon?"

Ronon nodded and Sheppard had to agree; the burled wood, and sleek contemporary lines of the restaurant were very pleasing, more so the food. They consumed several appetizers, then great entrees; sated once more, the friends left the restaurant headed for the casino.

"Okay, I feel like a poker game, anyone?" Sheppard asked.

"No, no poker for me; you always tell me that I'm horrid at poker. So you go play cards, and I'll play blackjack," Rodney quickly replied.

Carson offered, "I'll stay with him and try to keep him out of trouble, John."

"Okay," Sheppard walked ahead, then remembered he had Rodney's phone that he picked up from the hallway floor. "Hey, McKay, here…you forgot this." Carson caught the phone when Rodney missed it.

Sheppard headed for the poker room, Ronon electing to stay with the colonel. The pit boss directed Sheppard to an empty seat at a table playing a game that he was interested in, while Ronon leaned against the wall, content to watch the action.

Carson and Rodney wandered through the casino. Rodney kept looking at the blackjack table, longingly. After walking around for fifteen minutes, Carson's patience wore thin, "Okay, you go play blackjack, but do not get into trouble. Try not to count cards; I don't want to get thrown out of this hotel."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to play craps or roulette, not certain. Just meet me back here in a couple of hours." As Rodney started to walk away, Carson said, "And stay out of trouble."

With a wave of his hand, dismissing Carson's words, Rodney walked away toward the blackjack tables.

Over two hours later, Rodney found Carson, in the Sea Horse Bar. The doctor was having a drink with two women, who seemed to be laughing at whatever story a very animated Carson was telling them.

"Carson, finally, I've been searching for you everywhere for the last twenty minutes. Did you forget where we were going to meet? Never mind, I want to cash out my chips," he flashed an impish grin, "let's go."

"Rodney, you are being a cheeky bastard, be polite, say hello to Sally and Maureen; they're from Minnesota."

"Hello," Rodney tossed out a weak greeting, then turned back to Carson, "Come on, Carson; I need to cash in my chips, and we need to find Sheppard and Ronon."

"Ah, Rodney, the wee lads are fine, go cash in your chips, and come back and join us for a drink." Carson was grinning, his eyes slightly glassy.

"I think you've probably had too much to drink, come on."

"No, you come back and join us, we're having a nice chat, and besides, Maureen here teaches high school science, you two have something in common."

"Sorry, but what could I possibly have in common with a high school teacher. Are you coming or not?"

Carson just stared at him, and Rodney stared back, then throwing his hands up, said, "Fine; I'll go cash in my chips and catch up with you later."

Carson sheepishly apologized to his companions and they continued their conversation. Ten minutes later, the Las Vegas police burst through the front door of the hotel, rushing toward the Palace Casino area. Carson stood up, a feeling of dread evident on his face; the police were running toward the area where Rodney had gone.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to go check on my friend." Before they could reply, Carson was on his way out of the bar.

The main lobby area of the hotel and the front of the Palace Casino was full of police and hotel security. Officers guarded the main entrance, not allowing anyone in or out of the hotel. Carson pushed his way through the crowd toward one of the police officers.

"What's going on?"

"Sir, you'll have to step back."

"I'm not going anywhere laddie, until I know what's happening here. My friend was headed to the cashier's window about ten minutes ago; I need to know that he's alright."

The officer paused, then said, "Come with me."

Pushing their way through the crowd, the officer told him to wait. Walking over to a man in a suit, he whispered to the man, who nodded and followed the officer back to where Carson stood.

"I'm Detective Hank Marshall, LVPD; you say your friend was at the cashier's window?" Carson said yes, and the detective continued, "Who are you and what's your friend's name? Can you describe your friend for me?"

"I am Dr. Carson Beckett, my friend's name is Dr. Rodney McKay; he's about average height and weight, not skinny, light brown hair with a receding hairline, blue eyes. Detective, what's going on, has something happened to him?"

"I'm afraid, doctor, that matches the description of a man who was taken hostage a few minutes ago."

"Hostage, Rodney been taken hostage? Where is he?"

"Right now, we don't know."

"You don't know? How could you not know?"

"Right now, doctor, you need to let us do our job. I want you to stay right here, I'll be back with you."

"No, I have to tell Colonel Sheppard; he's in the poker room, I'll get him and we'll be back in a minute." Carson didn't wait for the detective's answer, or realize that the detective sent the officer with him. He only wanted to get to Sheppard as soon as possible.

Carson was nearly at a run by the time he negotiated the crowded casino and entered the poker room. He stopped abruptly and the police officer bumped into him; Carson whirled around.

"Sorry sir, the detective sent me with you. Where's your friend?"

Carson spun back around, his eyes darting around the room until he spotted Ronon leaning against the wall. Carson hurried toward Ronon, then saw Sheppard sitting at a table, a large pile of chips in front of him.

"Colonel, colonel…"

At the sound of a familiar voice, Sheppard and Ronon looked over, to see Carson running toward them. Sheppard, who had already thrown in his hand for the round, stood up quickly and he and Ronon rushed to meet Carson. The fact that a police officer was with Carson, wasn't lost on Sheppard.

"Colonel, colonel, Rodney's in trouble, he…"

Carson's words were running together, and Sheppard grabbed his shoulders, "Slow down; what's happened to Rodney?"

Carson seemed unable to tell Sheppard, and the colonel looked at the officer, "What's happened?"

"Sir, there's been a robbery in the casino, and apparently, your friend was taken hostage."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon and then at Carson, "It's okay, Carson. We'll find him; let's go."

Sheppard led the way, as they headed for the main casino floor. When they reached the secured area, the officer pointed out Detective Marshall to Sheppard.

The colonel approached him, "Detective; I'm Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, Dr. McKay is a member of my team. What's happened here?

"Detective Hank Marshall," he held out his hand, and the men shook, "Colonel; we don't have a lot of information as of yet. It appears there has been a robbery at the cashiers' cage. The perps got away, taking three casino workers and a guest with them. From the description, the doctor gave us the guest may have been your friend, uh…" he looked at his notepad, "Dr. McKay. Apparently, he walked up to cashiers' window and spotted something wrong. A witness said the man yelled something like, "what the hell are you doing.' The witness said another man outside the cashier's window put a gun in his back, and hustled him through that access door that leads to the non-public areas of the hotel."

"Where are they?" Sheppard asked. His voice was even, but very measured; anyone who knew him, would realize that his tone reflected cold fury.

"We don't have any idea, colonel; I can assure you that we have a lot of people looking."

"We have an idea." The group turned to see another detective approaching, "At least, we know what happened to the hostages when they exited the hotel."

Marshall introduced the new arrival as Detective Everett Burton, who continued. "Caesars' security cameras show they were thrown into a black limo that was waiting at the VIP entrance, on Flamingo Road. We're beginning to check all traffic cams to see what direction they took from there. Roadblocks are being set up on all roads leading out of the city, and we've notified the Highway patrol. Trouble is they left in a limo; not like there aren't a few of them around."

Sheppard said, "Detectives, we'll help to search for him."

Marshall stepped closer to Sheppard, the tall detective looking Sheppard in the eye, "No, colonel; you won't, the Air Force has no jurisdiction here. Besides, you fly airplanes, you are hardly qualified to do my job."

Both Carson and Ronon tensed waiting to see how Sheppard would react to the not so subtle put-down from the Vegas detective. Sheppard didn't blink, "Detective; you have no idea how valuable Dr. McKay is to the security of this country. His safety and that of the other hostages, is my only concern; you can play with the bad guys all you want. I get enough of that in my job." He pulled the detective's notebook and pen from his hand and scribbled some numbers on the pad. "This is Dr. McKay's cell phone number, see if you can get a GPS lock, the other number is mine. I expect to be updated constantly."

Sheppard abruptly turned and walked away, catching Ronon and Carson off guard. Ronon reacted faster than Carson, who was still standing next to Marshall. He heard Marshall mutter under his breath, "Who the fuck does that asshole think he is?"

Carson answered, "That is Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you _don't _want to mess with him, laddie; consider yourself warned." He hurried to catch up with his friends, leaving the detective glaring at them as they walked away.

Sheppard was impatiently punching the elevator call-button when Ronon, then Carson, caught up with him. Carson had seen the colonel extremely angry, but there was intensity to his demeanor that he hadn't witnessed before.

"John, I…this is my fault. I was having a drink with a couple of ladies, and Rodney wanted me to go with him to the cashiers; I refused. Maybe if I had…" He paused as Sheppard looked at him, his hand raised for Carson to stop.

"No, this is not your fault; if you had gone with Rodney, you could both be hostages or worse. If anyone's at fault here, it's me for thinking we could possibly have a good time without finding trouble."

The elevator arrived and they rode to their floor in silence. Sheppard slipped his keycard from his inside jacket pocket and entered his suite. He hurried into the bedroom, where he pulled the gun locker from his closet.

As he handed Ronon a 9-mil, he said, "Don't say it, Chewie; next time, you bring your blaster." He then handed Carson a 9-mil, grabbed his weapon, and Rodney's from the locker, and slipped them both in his belt. He tucked a couple of extra clips in his jacket pockets, putting the rest into a satchel he handed to Ronon.

"Sheppard, what's the plan?" Ronon asked, as he slung the satchel across his chest.

"First, we have to get clearance to be involved in the search for Rodney. I need to call in a favor." He sat down on the couch, and punched in a number. "This is Colonel John Sheppard, authorization 3258772107. I need a secure line." He waited for a few seconds, then punched in another number, speaking almost immediately, "This is Colonel Sheppard, I need to speak to General Landry."

Fifteen minutes later, after Sheppard received a return call from the general, they headed downstairs. Detective's Marshall and Burton were talking to witnesses outside of the cashiers' window. Inside, a forensics team was combing thought the room for clues. Sheppard knew that Marshall was aware he was there, but wouldn't acknowledge him.

Ronon was impatient, "Sheppard, we just going to wait here?" Sheppard only nodded in reply, continuing to stare at Marshall.

When Marshall's phone rang, Carson noted a slight smile cross Sheppard's face. He looked at the detective who was now openly staring at Sheppard, and he didn't look happy. Marshall finished his call, and walked toward them.

"The chief of police just received a call from the Secretary of Defense, who informed him that you are to be included in this investigation. In fact, the secretary suggested that you run this investigation. At least, the chief of police saw fit to keep that from happening. I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you want to be involved, you're involved. But you better remember that this is my case, and I make the decisions."

Sheppard's voice was low, raspy, "Detective; I am not your enemy. I only want my friend and colleague, and the other hostages back safely."

Marshall glared into Sheppard's eyes for a few seconds, then said, "I'm headed to Caesar's security office to look at the cameras. You can come if you want." He turned, briskly walking away.

Sheppard moved to follow the detective, but Ronon stopped him, "You gonna let him call the shots on this?"

Sheppard replied somberly, "No; we find Rodney."

Rodney McKay was lying on the floorboard of a stretch limousine that he was unceremoniously thrown into after being hustled out of the hotel. His arms were tied behind his back and his feet bound; a piece of duct tape stretched across his mouth. He heard whimpering, first wondering if he was making the sound. Hearing the whimper again, he realized it was coming from a woman, who was similarly tied, but was lying on a seat. He rolled around as best he could, to see another woman lying on the opposite seat. In the dim light filtering through the darkened windows, he could tell the second woman's eyes were wide, filled with fear.

The limo had stopped approximately five minutes before. He heard the creaking of car doors opening, then felt them slam shut. As he attempted to slow his breathing, he wondered if they had been abandoned, and whether they would be found. He bounced his head against the floor in frustration and anger at himself. If he had listened to Carson, and joined the doctor for a drink, he wouldn't be here.

He sighed deeply, wondering why the hell he couldn't have taken time to relax. Did he really say 'what would he possibly have in common with a high school teacher' in front of her? He was thankful Sheppard hadn't heard that, he would have chewed his ass off for being so rude. Not that Carson would ever allow him to forget it; the Scot would probably have a few choice words for him.

His thoughts were racing, when the car door opened, startling him. Huge hands reached for him and dragged him from the limo, depositing him on his stomach onto a hard, rough surface. Minutes later, the two women were lying beside him. Blindfolds were placed across their eyes before they were rolled over.

A high-pitched male voice shattered the silence, "What the fuck are we going to do with them, Jessie? We just fucking kidnapped three people."

"Moron, don't use names, I swear you are a fucking idiot. We may need these people; we didn't exactly escape the casino without being noticed. The cops found out quicker than we thought they would." This man's accent placed him from the Boston area.

A female voice joined the conversation, seething with anger, "If you had done what I told you, you wouldn't have gotten in this situation. I was watching for people to come up to the windows, but you weren't paying attention. Little Dana here got your blood boiling, and you were fixated on her. That idiot saw your gun, and that why we had to grab him. Because of you stupidly talking to me about him, we had to take the girls, and blew our plans of having the police think I was the only hostage. Honestly, I ought to kill you right here."

Boston said, "Listen, bitch, we got the money, it's being loaded in the van. We're keeping these three as bargaining chips. If we make it until the plane arrives without being found, we'll dump them on the side of the road."

"We just kidnapped three people, you fucking idiot, killing 'em won't make a difference. Where's B?" she asked, not wanting to say his full name.

"He's on his way to the ranch. He dumped his car and picked up the SUV."

"Okay, get changed and get that truck loaded. I'm taking the car, and heading for the ranch," the woman said. Rodney heard the sound of footsteps fading away.

Boston spoke again, "Idiot, check his pockets; if you find a cell phone, throw it away."

Rough hands searched his pockets, finding his cell phone; the sound of plastic hitting the floor told Rodney the phone had been tossed away. Idiot also found the cache of chips in his jacket pocket. Rodney heard him laughed, then he whispered, "Nice little haul here, I think I'll keep them for the next time I'm in Vegas."

About fifteen minutes passed before the hostages were thrown into a vehicle of some sort. Something lumpy was under Rodney's back; he suspected it might be stacks of money. Right before the doors slammed shut, he heard Boston say, "We'll drive to the ranch and lie low there for a couple of days. Once things have died down, we fly to Mexico."

As the buzzer sounded and the doors into Caesars' main surveillance center opened for them to enter, Sheppard immediately thought of the banks of monitors in the main science lab on Atlantis. The darkened room covered with monitors was about the same size as the Atlantis lab, but the screens here displayed visuals from every corner of the hotel.

Detective Burton, who introduced Dane Rogers, Caesars' head of security to Sheppard, spoke, "Rogers just told me that one of his security monitor techs, Bill Penn, has disappeared. Penn told the tech next to him he was feeling sick and ran toward the corridor leading to the bathroom. There is also a staircase in that direction; we are assuming he fled the hotel. His assignment tonight was to monitor the screens from the cashiers' cage."

"So, you think he was in on it?" Detective Marshall asked.

Rogers answered, "We think so; from what we've put together here, there were only three cashiers on duty when the man was taken from the lobby. That is considerably fewer than the number of cashiers, who should be on duty. The four men, who were in there, were very careful to keep their heads down and not appear on any of the several cameras in the room. They are wearing cashier uniforms, but no one recognized them from the limited view we had. Besides, they all disappeared at the time the hostages were taken."

Sheppard asked, "Who could arrange for only three cashiers to be on duty?"

Marshall threw Sheppard an angry glare but kept quiet as Rogers answered, "The supervisor on duty handles the schedule, which shows a full crew. We found three of them on break together, unusual because only two are allowed to be on break at the same time. The others are not in the hotel; we've begun contacting them. We spoke to one so far, he's on the schedule but said the supervisor game him the night off."

Marshall asked quickly, "Supervisor's name?"

Burton answered, "I have that info already, Hank. The head cashier's name is Marcella Ponci, 36; she's been with Caesar's for five years, night supervisor for seven months. I called dispatch to send officers to her address; no call back yet."

Sheppard spoke again, "You have Dr. McKay's abduction on tape?" Rogers nodded and directed them to a large monitor on the right side of the room, and motioned for the tech to start the video.

They watched as four men, dressed as cashiers entered through the secure door at the rear of the cashier's area. Three men immediately approached the three cashiers who were on duty; the three women straightened a bit as the men spoke to them, but their expressions didn't change. The fourth man pulled several bags from a bin that was stored in a cabinet and distributed the bags. Hastily, they proceeded to fill the bags with the money from the three open drawers, and the drawers in the closed cashiers' windows.

Marshall asked, "Which one is Ponci?" Rogers pointed out the strawberry blond sitting in the far right window.

Once they emptied the drawers, one of them men pulled a gun from under his shirt. Rogers said, "This is a second or two before the time stamp on the other camera when the hostage walked up to the window." He spoke to the tech, "Rack up camera 15."

The view from camera 15 was from outside the cashiers' cage, showing the lobby area directly in front of the cashiers' windows. They could see the three women sitting at the cash windows and the four men moving around behind them. About ten seconds into the video, Rodney McKay walked into the picture, approaching the first window where Ponci was sitting. McKay reacted when he apparently spotted the gun, Ponci left the window, and a man appeared behind McKay. The man moved extremely close to McKay, and the two men disappeared to the left and out of range of that camera. Another view of McKay walking to the window followed, and from that vantage point, they could see the gun pressed against McKay's back. The gunman pressed the keypad next to the door leading to the back areas of the hotel, and the two men disappeared through the door. The third tape showed one man talking to Marcella. They appeared to be arguing, while the other two cashiers were grabbed and taken out the back. The next tape was a view of the VIP entrance next along Flamingo Road. There were three limousines in view, parked along the curb. The last was a black stretch limo with the lights on. Several people entered the view, the four men who were holding on to two of the female cashiers, one lone female, and McKay and the gunman. They all got in and the limo sped away.

Ronon was leaning against the outer edge of the horseshoe bank of monitors, and Sheppard heard him say something in Czech, under his breath. Radek Zelenka had jokingly taught Ronon to cuss in Czech late one night in the mess. Sheppard sighed; he wished Ronon didn't need that now. He glanced at Beckett, who he found staring at him.

"Carson, you okay?"

"No, colonel, I am not; we have to find him."

"Don't worry; he's alive, and we are going to find him."

Sheppard reached in the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small card, "Carson, here; go to the valet stand and have the car brought down, tell the valet it's an emergency and you need the car immediately. Stay with it…if security gives you any trouble, tell them Mr. Rogers said it was okay for you to stay there while you're waiting. I'm going to see if our crack police detective has any results from the GPS search on Rodney's phone."

Carson took off, and Sheppard walked toward Marshall, dampening his anger. He knew that the detective was extremely angry with him, but he frankly didn't care. However, Landry had made it clear that he was to cooperate with the police; so for now, he'd cooperate, unless they got in the way of rescuing Rodney.

"Marshall, how's that GPS search going?"

Burton reacted nervously, which concerned Sheppard that Marshall hadn't followed up on the phone number. He took another step closer to the detective, "Marshall; I gave you McKay's number nearly forty-five minutes ago, what's the result?"

Marshall glared at him, and pulled out his phone, making a call, "Jack, anything yet on that phone number I gave you? I'll wait." He waited for few minutes before he got an answer then hung up. "Nothing yet, and colonel, I'm not vindictive. I called that number in; the phone is apparently not working."

"Crap, Rodney probably turned it off when he was playing blackjack." Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "Any word on the road blocks?"

Marshall shook his head, "Nothing; HP has cars on the major ramps on all the freeways, LVPD is covering all the major streets but hell, looking for a limo that looks like every other limo on a holiday weekend, without a license plate number, it's impossible. Even if we get good surveillance from the traffic cams as they left the hotel, we'll probably lose them in traffic when we switch between cameras."

"Luck seems to be something we're out of at this point."

"I was about to head over to Marcella Ponci's condo to see if we can find anything useful." Marshall didn't appear that he wanted to say the next words, but he did, "You're welcome to come along."

Sheppard nodded and he and Ronon followed the detectives out of the security department. They were in the casino heading for the front door, when Marshall's phone rang. He listened, then turned to Sheppard. "McKay's phone just turned on and it's active. He's at a warehouse about five miles out of town."

The group hurried out of the hotel. Sheppard spotted the Rover and headed toward it. Marshall called back to him, "You can come with us."

Sheppard replied as Beckett slipped out of the driver's seat and got in the back, "I can drive as well as fly; we'll follow you."

They treaded their way through the heavy Vegas traffic, assisted by police cruisers with lights and sirens going. Eventually, they started going through an industrial area and then through a residential area and into open terrain with only a scattering of houses and businesses along the road. The convoy kicked up speed and within a few minutes, the cruisers turned off their sirens and lights. They journeyed another half-mile, a large structure outlined in the moonlight coming into view.

A rusty sign that said 'Howard's Trucking' hung crookedly over a doorway that had office painted on the glass panes that formed the top of the door. A couple of bicycles were lying on the ground next to the office door. Double sets of large garage doors filled the near side of the building.

Marshall sent two police officers, to recon the building. They returned within a few minutes; they found a locked rear door, and a window into a very large garage. The officers reported a lone vehicle inside, a black limousine.

As Marshall laid out the assault plan, Sheppard and Ronon both pulled their weapons. Marshall stopped in mid-sentence, glaring at Sheppard, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"We're going in with you."

"No, no you're not."

Sheppard bit his lower lip before he spoke, quelling his anger once more, "Marshall, don't make me have the Secretary of Defense call your boss again. We're going in with you."

Marshall was pissed, but he just shook his head, "Your funeral, but don't you dare get any of my men hurt." He turned away, ordering his men into place.

Sheppard looked at Carson, who also had his weapon in his hand, "You stay out here, Carson."

"No, laddie; he's my friend, too."

Sheppard dropped his head, sighing deeply. He wasn't going to convince Carson to stay, and he didn't want to order him, "Just stay behind Ronon." Carson nodded and they got in position to enter the building.

The front door was unlocked; Marshall and Burton entered first with Sheppard, then Ronon, followed by Beckett. There was a closed door across the room, which led to a corridor that spilled into a large garage. The light was coming from there.

The men slipped up the passageway; Marshall stopped at the entrance to the garage, Sheppard behind him. Marshall whispered, "The limo's parked close to the front side of the building." Over his radio, he told the two police officers at the rear door to go on his mark, told the other two to wait until they opened the garage doors. He whispered, "Now," and they burst into the large open garage.

The limo sat near the front and was the only vehicle in the garage. Checking the front seat, which was empty, they moved cautiously toward the passenger door. Once everyone was in place, Burton reached for the door handle and flung open the passenger door. Inside, two very frightened boys around twelve, screamed as four weapons were aimed at them. Hastily, Marshall yelled for everyone to stand down, and motioned for the boys to exit.

Shakily, the boys climbed out of the limo, and Carson immediately began to attempt to calm them down. One of the boys was holding a cell phone, and Carson asked to see it. He turned it over to Sheppard; the phone was working, but the case was cracked along one corner.

"McKay's," Sheppard said, and passed it to Marshall, who had donned a pair of gloves. He then turned to the boys, "What are your names?"

The shorter of the two boys said, "I'm Pedro; he's Tim." 

"Pedro, where did you find the phone?" The boy looked past Sheppard and pointed to a large metal box sitting near the far wall. Marshall headed that way.

Carson smiled at the boys, who were trembling, "Now calm down, you lads are not in any trouble. What are ya doing out at this time of the morning?"

The boys looked at each other, then Tim answered, "We're not supposed to be out; our parents' think we're staying at each other's house. We thought it would be fun to stay out all night."

Sheppard smiled, "Yeah, I've done that before; when I was about your age. Tell me, did you see anything else, did you see anyone around here, any other cars, people?"

"We were down the road looking in the window of the roadhouse, just to see what was going on inside. A big black limo went past us really fast and looked like it turned in here. We waited a while, there looked like there was going to be fight at the roadhouse. We wanted to see it, but it didn't happen."

Pedro jumped in, "So we decided to come down here and see what the limo was doing, this place has been empty for a long time. The garage doors were coming down as we got here."

"Did you see any vehicles?" 

"A really cool sports car passed us before we got here, and…" Tim interrupted Pedro.

"It was a Ferrari; red, I think. We checked the door; it was open, so we snuck inside. We heard voices but we got scared 'cause one of the men sounded mean. Then the garage doors went up and what sounded like a truck left, then we heard the doors closed."

"Yeah," Pedro said, "that's when we came in here and saw the limo. Tim opened the car doors and I found the phone. We were trying to see if we could get on the internet with it."

"Thanks boys, you did good." Sheppard smiled at them, and walked over to join Marshall.

"We need to look for a red sports car, the kids think it was a Ferrari and they said some kind of truck left here."

"Did they say which way they were going?" Burton asked.

"The sports car was headed back toward Vegas; the kids don't have any idea which way the truck went." Sheppard was standing with his hands on his hips, his fingers tapping, chewing on his lower lip. Both Carson and Ronon knew that look, the colonel was thinking. Marshall simply thought he was frustrated.

"Look, Sheppard, I know you're upset about this, but we'll get bolos out on both vehicles, including all the surrounding states. We'll find them."

"We will find them; I have an idea." He whirled around and headed back down the hallway they had entered through, Ronon and Carson on his heels.

Rodney McKay was a very unhappy man. He had been bouncing on top of lumpy bags, with two women rolling on top of him. At one point, when both women were on top of him, he thought, yeah, McKay; your fantasy with two women is not exactly what you thought it would be. He was pretty certain that thought was permanently out of his head. He had lost track of time, but he felt as though they'd been traveling for an eternity, but he suspected it was closer to two hours.

He was frightened, petrified to be exact, for himself and the two young women with him. The bastards who kidnapped them had nothing to lose, and if they were cornered…; he didn't want to think about that.

The van took a sharp right turn, and he was bouncing as the van quickly sped down an extremely rough road. The smaller of the two women with him, flew into the air when they hit a particularly hard bump, and hit her head on the side of the van. She moaned deeply and Rodney was angry; he felt helpless, she was injured, and he couldn't do anything to help her. They drove down the road for quite a while before the van came to a stop. The doors opened and they were pulled out of the van and dropped onto the rough ground. The only thought going through his head was the fact that Sheppard wouldn't give up until he found him. He just hoped he was alive to know when they rescued him.

By the time, Ronon and Carson caught up with Sheppard, the colonel was reciting his authorization code; then asking for General Landry. They waited.

Sheppard heard a click on the line, and then Landry voiced boomed through the phone, "Sheppard, did you find McKay?"

"No, sir; we found his phone and where he may have been held, but we were too late. Apparently, he and the other hostages have been moved. Sir, I need a favor."

"Sheppard, am I going to hate this?"

"I hope not, sir."

"What…just tell me."

"Sir, I need some assistance from whatever ship is closest to us right now."

Sheppard gritted his teeth as Landry said, "Ship, one of our ships?"

"Yes, sir; it's the only way to find McKay quickly, and general, there are two innocent women with him. Ship's sensors can pick up Rodney's transponder, and we can go rescue him."

"Well, at least you didn't ask me to have them pluck him out of wherever he is, because that I won't do; national security…the President would have my hide."

"No, sir; we'll get him, I just need to know where he is."

"Hang on, Sheppard."

Sheppard was pacing, waiting for Landry to come back on the line. He glanced at Carson and Ronon, who were leaning against the Rover, and shrugged. His patience was near a breaking point by the time Landry came back on the line.

"Sheppard, the Daedalus is currently on a check-out run after engine repairs, but they are still in the solar system. Caldwell says he'll be over Nevada in approximately one hour and twenty-seven minutes. When he's in synchronous orbit above you, I'll have him patched into your phone."

"General, thank you."

"Don't thank me, colonel; find McKay, and, for goodness sakes, try to stay out of trouble for the rest of your leave, will you?"

"Yes, sir," Sheppard replied. He slipped the phone in his jacket pocket, and joined Ronon and Carson.

"Caldwell will be here in about an hour and a half; we'll know where Rodney is then. Come on; let's tell Marshall, what we can tell him."

Rodney heard heavy footsteps approaching. He was lying on the ground exactly where they left him when dumped from the stopped vehicle. His heart was racing; he was afraid that he'd been abandoned on the side of the road, but to his relief, the vehicle never started up again. As the footsteps got closer, he sensed there was more than one person coming toward him.

Boston's gruff voice shattered the silence, "Cut those ropes on his legs, and get his ass up; I'm tired of carrying him. Get him and the girls into the house, take 'em to that back room."

Hands grabbed Rodney's legs, cut the ropes, and pulled him to his feet. He was wobbly, his legs cramping from being bound for a couple of hours, but he managed to stand. He was shoved from behind, and told to move. He stumbled as he attempted to walk, but someone caught him before he hit the ground.

"Geez, walk you son of a bitch; I'm not carrying your sorry ass anymore." The voice belonged to Idiot.

Rodney was led into a building, stumbling over the threshold, which elicited a blow to his back from his guide, who yelled, "Watch where you're going."

All Rodney could think was what a moron Idiot was, the blindfold he was wearing made it a tad difficult for him to see where he was going.

Idiot dragged Rodney down what he assumed must be a hallway, since he bounced into close walls on each side more than once, then Idiot shoved him through a doorway. He gingerly walked into the room, but walked into something, banging up his shins. Grunting he tried to take a step back, but he bumped into someone, who shoved him. Rodney fell onto a soft surface but rolled across hit hitting his head against a wall. The last thing he remembered was Idiot yelling, "I swear; this stupid son-of-a-bitch is an idiot."

Marshall ordered a forensics' unit to check out the garage, and they had returned to the Las Vegas Police Station. When they walked in, the desk sergeant, who was on duty the night Rodney and Carson had been detained, greeted Sheppard with a 'welcome back.' A gesture noticed by Marshall, who cast the colonel a quizzical glance.

As they walked through the department toward Marshall's office, Beckett asked where he could get a cup of coffee. Burton offered to take him to the break room, and Sheppard motioned for Ronon to accompany Beckett.

As he settled in a chair in Marshall's office, he glanced at his watch, still forty-one minutes to go. He looked up to see Marshall staring at him.

Marshall asked, "How much longer until your people get back to you?"

"About forty minutes," Sheppard answered, not offering more to the detective. From the look on Marshall's face, he wasn't very satisfied with the explanation that Sheppard had given him, which was none.

"You going to tell me how you can pinpoint where the hostages are with enough confidence that I can send my people out to find them?" Marshall leaned back in his chair, a suspicious look on his face.

"No, I'm not; it's classified."

Marshall guessed, "Satellite? Although I don't see how a satellite could find McKay."

Sheppard just shook his head.

"You know I'm pretty pissed that I have to babysit you."

Sheppard leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs; his side was aching and he could really use some Advil but that could wait. "Nobody asked you to babysit me, just to allow me to assist in searching for Dr. McKay."

Marshall scoffed, "I've had to deal with VIP's before, after all, this is Vegas. At least, you aren't demanding warm hand towels, or water chilled to a precise temperature."

Sheppard chucked, "Not yet, anyway. Look, we are not VIP's; we just want to find our friend."

"Right, the Secretary of Defense just called to say hi. Hell, I doubt even Lady Gaga has that kind of pull."

Sheppard dropped his head, scratching just above his forehead, "Marshall; we're just Air Force personnel, trying to have a vacation.'

"What was the sergeant talking about, why did he say welcome back?"

"McKay and Beckett stopped an attempted rape a couple of night's ago; they got knocked around a bit. After they were treated at the hospital, they were brought to the station, and Ronon and I picked them up here."

"Been wreaking havoc in my town for a while, huh. I'll say this, you guys are the most unlikely looking group of military I've ever seen. I mean, what did you say McKay was, a physicist? Beckett a medical doctor, and I don't even want to speculate about the big guy. And you, you don't look like an Air Force officer. So what gives?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot, and sorry, your 'what gives' is classified."

Sheppard was rescued from anymore banter with Marshall by the arrival of Carson and Ronon. Ronon handed Sheppard a cup of coffee, while Beckett handed him Advil. Sheppard's slight grin was his only acknowledgement.

Burton rushed into the office, "Hank; the kids were close on the car, the red sports car was a Lamborghini, registered to a Jessie Gianfranco, 48. His address is the same as Marcella Ponci. He's got a rap sheet full of goodies, assault, terroristic threatening, drugs, robbery, spent some quality time in jail in Massachusetts. His parole ended about eight months ago. I've put his photo out along with hers; we're checking for known associates in the area."

The sound of a phone beeping startled them all; it was Sheppard's phone. As he reached into his pocket, he looked at his watch; it was still twenty-four minutes until the Daedalus should be overhead.

"Sheppard," he answered.

"Colonel Sheppard, Sgt. Specter, sir; hold for a secure line," Sheppard jumped up and walked into the hall.

A deep, gruff voice erupted from the phone, "Sheppard, can't do without me, can you?"

"Colonel Caldwell, you're early."

"Yeah, well, you know Landry; he's like an old mother hen. He _gently_ suggested that I push it, and get here as soon as possible; so we pushed it."

"Have you…" Sheppard started to ask, but Caldwell interrupted.

"Yes, we've located McKay's transponder. Marks has cross-referenced the coordinates on a topography map and overlaid that with a road map. He's sending it to the SGC; they should be rerouting the map to your phone any minute. He's about two hours south of you, near the Arizona-California-Nevada border."

"Colonel…thanks…I…"

"No need to say it, just find him safe; and Sheppard, you so owe me."

"We'll find him, and yes, yes I do."

Just as Sheppard ended the call, his phone beeped and the email came through. He headed back into Marshall's office.

Beckett jumped up, "Colonel; you found Rodney?"

"Yes, he's two hours from here near a town called Laughlin."

Marshall reached for his phone, "I'll notify the Highway Patrol and the locals. Sheppard, they don't have many state boys down there, you willing wait 'til we get there?"

"If we go now, I am."

"Let's get that printed and we'll head out." He turned to Sheppard, "This time you are riding with me."

A door creaked, and slowly opened, scraping across the floor. Rodney had regained consciousness, but had no concept of how much time had passed. Soft footsteps told him someone had entered the room, and a soft voice, spoke, "Madre de Dios, esto es tan mal."

Rodney heard a soft moan, and a very weak voice requesting water; shortly, from a different voice, the same request. After another moment passed, Rodney felt soft fingers gently pulling the tape from his mouth. He sucked in a huge breath, and in a raspy voice uttered, 'I'll take some of that water."

"Of course, señor let me hold your head." A small, warm hand cradled the back of his head as a glass touched against his lips. He greedily drank the cool water before she pulled the glass away, 'No, no…not too much at once."

There was an edge of panic in Rodney's rushed voice, as he asked, "Are the women okay, one of them hit her head earlier. Where the hell are we, and who are you?"

The woman laughed softly, "You have many questions, señor, but you must be quiet or they will hear you. The señoritas are uninjured. I do not believe that Señor Jessie will like that I have come in here. But I knew you must be thirsty and uncomfortable."

Rodney demanded, "You didn't answer me, who are you and where are we?"

"I am Milagros; my husband, Esteban and I live here, we take care of this ranch for Señor Jessie. Now, please do not speak, I am going to lightly place the tape back across your mouth, but I will give you a bit more water first." She held the glass up against his lips.

Rodney drank a bit more water, then asked, "Please, can you loosen these ropes on my wrists; it hurts.

"Oh, señor, no, no puedo, no me pides, I cannot."

"Please, it hurts," his arms actually didn't hurt; they were too numb to hurt, but he wanted his hands loose. How else could he escape?

Rodney heard Milagros take a deep throaty breath, "Okay, señor; I will loosen your bindings."

She pushed him over on his side, and worked for several minutes until she had loosened the ropes. As the blood rushed back into his hands, he felt as if his fingers were on fire. As she began to turn him onto his back again, he pulled as hard as he could on the ropes, further loosening them.

"Hey, if you aren't going to let me go, could you leave me on my left side? And could you loosen the girls' bindings?"

"Madre de Dios, you are asking so much. I do not know why Señor Jessie brought you here. I swear to you, Esteban and I have done nothing wrong. I'm afraid for what is happening, but I will loosen the senoritas ropes, as well."

"Thanks, Milagros"

Rodney waited until Milagros left. As soon as the door shut softly, he rubbed his face against the bed cover until he rubbed the tape away from his mouth. "Ladies, can you hear me?" Two gargled 'uh-huh' replied, and he instructed, "See if you can rub the tape off of your mouth, and work on loosening the ropes around your hands. And don't worry, help is coming." He was positive Sheppard was on the way.

A convoy of Vegas police cars, including a CRT van, and several Nevada Highway Patrol cars, sped down US 95 toward the southern tip of Nevada, where California and Arizona meet. Sheppard, Ronon, and Beckett were riding with Marshall, Burton in the SUV behind them.

They were less than thirty miles from the location where Rodney was being held. Sheppard was slouched in the front seat; he appeared so relaxed that he almost looked as if he was being held upright by the seat belt. Inside however, he was anything but relaxed. They were walking into a situation where they didn't know the terrain, or how many people were there and how armed they were, or where the hostages were being held. The one thing he did know was that a group of people with the balls to rob Caesars wasn't afraid of anything.

Sheppard roused from his thoughts when Marshall's phone rang. The detective answered and listened for several minutes. When he ended the call, he looked over at Sheppard, "That was Lt. Hernandez of the HP; they're at the site. It's off the Needles Freeway in the middle of nowhere, out in the open, but the house is surrounded by an eight-foot adobe wall. Hernandez said that a Mexican couple, Estefan and Milagros Sanchez, live there as caretakers; the property is owned by Peter Tucker, a local bad boy. An aerial shot in the city manager's office showed that there's a large barn behind the house, within the compound. HP moved some local cops familiar with the terrain as close as they dared; they only have a few night vision scopes with them. I'd bet a week's pay that there are sentries posted or video cameras at that compound.

Sheppard sighed, "No way to sneak up on them, then?" Marshall shook his head.

"I could call in a helicopter, from Vegas or the HP and drop the CRT's inside, but it's too dangerous with the hostages, especially since we don't know where they are."

Carson blurted out, "Colonel couldn't the Da…" He stopped, realizing what he had almost said, "Oh, forget I said that…sorry."

Sheppard looked around at him, "It's okay, Carson; no problem, but no detail available."

Marshall quipped, "More 'what gives' I'm not going to know about, Sheppard?"

Sheppard scoffed, then asked a question, "Marshall, when's sunrise?"

The detective answered, "Around 6:20 or so, why?"

Sheppard responded, "I have an idea."

**Day Four: Sunrise**

Pale gold light spilled over the rocky hills to the east, and the increasing light exposed a desolate vista of beige-gray sand and scrub brush. A lone old faded-red pickup truck was traveling along a road that appeared to have been created by using a bulldozer to push the rocks and brush out of the way. Plumes of dust spewed from the wheels, nearly obliterating the truck.

Inside the compound, Marcella Ponci was in the kitchen yelling at Milagros, wanting coffee; Jessie Gianfranco had just come in from tending to the horses that he kept at the ranch. As he walked up to Marcella and grabbed her, Milagros slipped into the pantry to get coffee.

"Hey, baby; we lay low here for one more day, and then we'll have Carlos fly in and pick us up. In less than forty-eight hours, we'll be on the beach in Mexico."

"You'd better hope it all plays out like that, or I swear I'll kill you for screwing up."

Jessie's anger flared and his fingers dug into her arms, "Listen, bitch; I wasn't the one who took her eyes off her job, you should've warned us that idiot was approaching."

Marcella jerked her arms loose, spun around, slapping him, "You, pig!" You were too interested in the young chick to pay attention to what you were doing."

He grabbed her again, "And you were too jealous to pay attention to what you were supposed to do. This is your fault, but don't worry your pretty little head; I'm gonna clean up your mess. No one will ever find the bodies; we'll get rid of our little trio of hostages, and the Mexican help. Pete's coming this afternoon to get the horses and take em to the _hacienda, señorita. _There won't be any loose ends."

She stared at him, and angrily muttered, "You better make sure, or I'll tie up your loose end, Jessie. I'm gonna get dressed. Where the hell did that Mexican whore go? She'd better have coffee ready when I get back or she'll be the first loose end to go."

Milagros stood behind the pantry door, breathing hard, her chest heaving in fear. "Dios mio," she whispered, "they are going to kill us." She waited until Jessie and Marcella left the kitchen, then emerging from the pantry, she quickly made coffee, and placed cups and sweet rolls on the table. She stood in the kitchen for a moment thinking out loud, "That will keep them from looking for me for a while. I must find Esteban; we have to get those people loose and get away." She fled out the back door.

Ten minutes later, Marcella entered the kitchen, when she didn't see Milagros, she yelled, "Hey, you Mexican bitch, where's my coffee?" Glancing around the room, she spotted the coffee pot and rolls. "Well, you'll live a little longer, since there's coffee."

Wandering to the front room, coffee in hand, munching on a roll, Milagros sat down on the couch. Curiously, she watched as Bill Penn and two men were placing thin packets of money into heavy waxed paper, and then gluing the bundles to fabric stretched out on the floor.

"What the fuck are they doing?"

"Ah, my pretty bitch," Jessie grinned, "when the plane gets here, we are going to redecorate. You are looking at the new wall covering. If by some slim chance we get boarded, they'll never suspect."

She smiled, "You are so smart, even if you are an idiot."

"Jessie, " Idiot ran into the room, yelling, "Jessie, there's a truck coming."

Jessie turned to Penn, "Keep working, unless I call for you." Drawing a Glock pistol from his waistband, he looked at Marcella, "Don't just stand there, bitch, get your gun and come with me." He followed Idiot out the door.

Outside the compound walls, the red pickup came to a halt. Two men exited the truck; from the passenger's side, a tall man with dreadlocks tied back in a bandana, wearing a faded green t-shirt, and jeans. From the driver's side, the other man was wearing a black cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a black shirt and jeans. Sheppard and Ronon; they approached the large solid wooden gate and Ronon pounded on the structure.

A voice called out, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Sheppard answered, "Hey, man, we're here to deliver hay for the horses; Peter Tucker ordered it." He pointed to the pickup bed, which was loaded with bales of hay. 

Inside the gate, Idiot looked at Jessie, "You think they are on the up and up?"

Jessie thought for a moment, "Yeah, Pete probably ordered hay for the horse van. He's going to Needles to pick one up this afternoon; let 'em in; but keep an eye on them. And keep your guns out of site; that got us into trouble before."

As Idiot yelled that they were opening the gate, Jessie returned to the house. Outside the gate, Sheppard got into the truck and drove slowly through the opening, while Ronon walked beside the truck. Following Idiot, Sheppard drove around the large house, and pulled through the open door of the large barn. He parked and got out, joining Ronon at the truck's rear. Only two of Jessie's men had accompanied them into the barn, watching as Sheppard dropped the truck's tailgate. With a glance at Ronon, Sheppard reached for the nearest bale of hay, Ronon the one next to it, lifting the bales, they both swung at the same time, hitting the two men, dropping them to the barn floor. As they finished the job by knocking both men out, six CRT's burst out from underneath the piled hay.

One of the CRT's approached Sheppard, "Colonel, I love it when a plan comes together." The CRT, named Castillo, turned to the others, "Jeffries, Parsons, secure these two, then recon the perimeter; the rest of you with me. I've signaled that we're in, so assistance is coming. Colonel, lead the way."

From the long back wing of the house, Milagros and Estefan had just entered the room where Rodney and the women were held. They untied Rodney first, Milagros whispered, "Please be quiet, they are going to kill all of us, Estefan and me, too. We must get away." She began to help Estefan untie the women.

"Señor Rodney, you almost had your ropes untied; you are very clever."

"Well, not clever enough, because I didn't get them completely done. How do you know they are going to kill all of us?"

"I heard Jessie tell that vile woman, Marcella, dios mio, that he would tie up 'loose ends' and kill us."

They helped the two women to their feet and Estefan put his finger to his lips, "Be quiet; I will check the hall and see if the way is clear." A whispered, "Ten cuidado," from his wife, and Estefan slipped through the door.

Sheppard, Ronon, and the CRT's made it to the back of the house without encountering any more of Jessie's men. The CRT commander motioned for two of his men to deploy around the sides of the building, then whispered to Sheppard, "After you."

They entered through the kitchen and proceeded down the hall toward the front. Two of the CRT's peeled off to check the side rooms, while the rest headed toward the sound of voices.

Marcella was complaining, "Are you sure that Pete ordered that stuff; it's not like Pete not to tell you everything."

"We've all be a little busy here; he probably forgot. You know Pete; he's probably sobering up somewhere right now. He tends to…"

The CRT commander yelled, "Police, put your hands up."

Jessie pulled Marcella in front of him, drawing his weapon. Penn dropped his gun on the floor, but the other two drew their weapons and began firing. Ronon took the first one out, the commander the other. Jessie pushed Marcella into Sheppard and jumped through the window; he rolled on the ground, then jumped up heading toward the Lamborghini, parked next to the side of the house.

Marcella was screaming, "Jessie, you fucking bastard, you used me as shield. I hope you fucking die!"

Sheppard pushed her toward the commander and ran out the front door toward the sports car. "Jessie, stop, it's over."

Jessie was nearly at the car, "No way, I'm getting out of here." He started to move toward the car when a body came running from the corner of the house and tackled him…Rodney.

"McKay," Sheppard raced toward the two men, but Jessie managed to get loose. Seeing the hostages, who had been led out of a window by Estefan, he sprinted toward them and grabbed Milagros. When Estefan ran toward them to rescue his wife, Jessie fired, dropping the man in his tracks. Milagros screamed, but Jessie jerked her around, holding a gun to her head.

"You let me go or I will kill her."

Sheppard, hearing the sound of several vehicles entering the compound, said, "Give it up, Jessie; you aren't getting away."

"Watch me," He dragged Milagros toward the car. He reached out to open the car door, glancing down for a second. Rodney, who had gotten to his feet, took advantage of Jessie's distraction and rushed him once again. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, he let go of Milagros and fired toward Rodney, the bullet tore through Rodney's arm.

Sheppard yelled, "Drop the gun." Jessie whirled the gun toward Sheppard and the colonel fired. Sheppard's bullet struck Jessie in the forehead, and he fell, but not before his weapon fired once more.

Rodney got up, his left arm bleeding profusely, rivulets of blood already dripping from his fingertips, and helped Milagros from the ground. She murmured gracias to him before she ran to her husband. McKay turned toward Sheppard and saw his friend standing, but instinctively, he knew something was very wrong.

Rodney began running toward Sheppard, who was swaying. Ronon reached him first and caught the colonel as he began to fall. He was laying Sheppard on the ground as Rodney ran up, "Sheppard…John, hey buddy, it's over; you got the bad guy…John…"

Ronon pulled his hand from beneath the unconscious Sheppard's back. His large hand was covered in a pool blood; he looked at Rodney, "It's bad, McKay."

Rodney yelled at the top of his lungs, "Beckett!'

**Day Four: Nighttime**

Rodney McKay was asleep; he had been back in his room in the surgical step-down unit for about four hours since the surgery to repair the damage from Jessie's gun. Ronon was sprawled in a chair in the corner, Detective Marshall walked in and at first, wasn't certain if Ronon was awake.

"Ronon," he said quietly, and when Ronon turned his head, he continued, "Any word on Colonel Sheppard yet?"

Ronon took a breath, "No. Beckett came out about an hour ago; said the surgery was going as well as they could expect." His tone told Marshall that Ronon wasn't pleased with him.

"Look, I know I dismissed you guys as a nuisance; I'm sorry, I was wrong."

"Yeah, I get that."

"You know, Dr. Beckett told me right after we met something to the effect of "_That's Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you don't want to mess with him, laddie"_, then he told me to consider myself warned."

Ronon stared at the leather cuff, trimmed with thin braiding that he was wearing on his wrist. It was the cuff he bought Sheppard when they were at the ghost town; Sheppard wore it yesterday. One of the flight nurses took it off him before inserting an IV in his arm, absently handing the cuff to Ronon. He had worn the cuff since; he'd give it back to Sheppard when he walked out of the hospital. "Beckett was right; Sheppard is the finest man I've ever known, and the best soldier."

"Well, I get that, too. Mind if I stay for a while?"

Ronon nodded and the two men sat in silence, while Rodney slept.

About forty-minutes later, General Hank Landry walked through the door. Ronon jumped to his feet, "General."

Landry introduced himself to Marshall, then walked over to Rodney's bed, "I just spoke to his doctor at the nurses' station. She tells me that the bullet was a through and through but did some tissue damage, and that's what the surgery was for, to repair that damage. She assured me the surgery was successful, he's gonna be fine." He turned around to look at the two men, "However, I understand that Sheppard's in bad shape."

Ronon got up and looked out of the window, turning his back on Landry and Marshall. Marshall answered the general. "Sheppard suffered a very serious gunshot wound. I'd insisted that they both wear vests before they went in, even though I begged him to let CRT do the assault alone. Sheppard wouldn't hear of it, but agreed to the vest. Damn fucking luck, when he shot Jessie Gianfranco, the bastard fell and I guess a muscle contraction caused Jessie to pull the trigger as he fell. The trajectory of the bullet began fairly low and the bullet slid underneath the vest Sheppard was wearing, striking him in the lower left side, and traveling upward. He lost a considerable amount of blood before Beckett got the bleeding stopped, at least the external bleeding." Marshall paused before continuing, looking over at McKay.

"McKay was bleeding badly from his own wound and wouldn't let anyone touch him. He only wanted Beckett to treat Sheppard. Ronon finally dragged him away and a CRT, who is also a medic, took care of him along with Estefan Sanchez, who was shot as well.

"The caretaker," Landry inserted.

Marshall looked at Landry, "How do you know that, I only filed my preliminary report about two hours ago? Oh, never mind, probably one of those 'what gives'," he continued despite Landry's confused look. "After Beckett got Sheppard's bleeding stopped, he left Ronon to hold pressure on the wound, while he checked on Sanchez. Told me he needed a helicopter immediately and within fifteen minutes, we had two med-evacs out of Needles. Dr. Beckett insisted we go to the best, nearest trauma center, so the med-evacs' brought them here to the University Medical Center. Vegas is the only city in Nevada with a trauma center."

"I understand that the Sanchez's had nothing to do with the robbery or the kidnapping. They actually freed the hostages, correct?"

"Yeah, according to Dr. McKay, they were innocent in all of this and wouldn't allow anything to happen to the hostages. Before he went into surgery, McKay informed the hospital that he'd pay all of Sanchez's medical bills. Good man."

"Yes, detective, they are all good men."

"Yes, we are," uttered by a weak voice, from the bed.

"Good men, detective, I didn't say at least one of them is not a bit egotistical."

"Funny, general, " McKay said weakly. "Sheppard, how is he?"

"Still in surgery, doctor, he's holding his own. I brought Walter with me, McKay, can I have him contact your sister?"

"No, no…d-don't call Jeannie; I'm fine and it would just scare her about S-Sheppard. I'll call her after…after we hear Sheppard's going to b-be okay."

"Well, Walter's going to call Sheppard's brother, as soon as he's out of surgery; might as well wait until we know the status then."

"No, don't c-call Dave; Sheppard wouldn't want that. Besides, Dave's out of the country for a couple of months; think that's another reason why J-John wanted to take this trip now." McKay took a breath, "He didn't have to deal with deciding on seeing his brother when he took leave."

Landry looked displeased, "We need to call someone in his family."

Ronon answered tersely, "We're his family." With that statement, Landry wisely let the matter drop.

Rodney asked for water and while Ronon was getting it for him, a nurse came in to check McKay's vitals. Marshall and Landry stepped out in the hallway to get out of the way.

"Pretty special group of men you have here, general. They are amazingly loyal to each other and seem to treat Sheppard as a hero."

"You don't even know, Marshall. What was it Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "_A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."_ Sheppard seems to think five minutes is too short."

Marshall was about to reply when he noticed Dr. Beckett walking down the corridor toward them. "Here comes Beckett."

The Scottish doctor looked exhausted, having not slept the night before, other than a short nap on the way to the ranch. Now, as the sun was starting to set over Vegas, he had just come through four hours of surgery on Sheppard.

"General Landry, good to see you, sir; Detective Marshall," Beckett said as he shook the general's, then Marshall's, hand.

Ronon came into the hall, "Doc, McKay's awake; he wants to know about Sheppard."

They entered the room, and Rodney struggled to sit up. Beckett raised the head of the bed, "Rodney, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Carson; now tell us about Sheppard."

"John is out of surgery, but he remains in critical condition. The bullet didn't do major damage to any one organ, it nipped his large intestine, nicked his spleen, punctured his diaphragm, hit a lung and cracked a rib along his back, near his spine, before exiting. Thank goodness, it missed his heart, but it was only by millimeters. The good news is that all that damage was repairable, and his surgeon, Dr. Frankel was amazing. However, he lost a lot of blood, and John is still weak from the injury he sustained in Bakersfield. We are concerned about his blood pressure; we're having a hard time keeping it stabilized."

Rodney, clutching the sheet in his right hand, asked anxiously, "Carson is he going to be alright?' 

Carson looked at Landry, then Ronon, and then back at Rodney, "The next twenty-four hours are critical. Rodney, the staff here is exceptional; they are supporting him with blood, fluids, and drugs, and are monitoring him closely. He's in good hands."

Ronon asked, "When can we see him?"

"He's in PACU right now, after about an hour, he'll be taken to the Surgical ICU. Once they get him settled, you can go in for a few minutes."

Rodney started to get out of bed; Ronon and Carson grabbed him, and forced him back. Carson said, "Rodney, you just underwent surgery; you are not getting up until your doctor says you can get up. I promise I will keep you up to date on John's condition. Ronon, keep him here; I'm going to go check on John. I'll be back."

Landry, with Marshall behind, followed Beckett into the hallway, "Doctor, before you go, I have a question. You mentioned that Sheppard was covering from another injury; he sustained in Bakersfield. Would you care to elaborate?"

Beckett looked a bit sheepish, but he explained the incident with the bikers and in the roadhouse to the general. Then he excused himself to return to Sheppard. Landry stood in the center of the bright hospital corridor watching the doctor walk away.

Marshall remarked, "General, I believe Colonel Sheppard has extended his time as a hero considerably passed five minutes."

Landry frowned, "Yeah, the dang fool. Come on, Marshall, let me buy you a cup of coffee; it's gonna be a long night."

About two and half hours later, a nurse entered Rodney's room and whispered to Ronon that Dr. Beckett said he could see Sheppard. The nurse left, and Ronon rose quietly so he would not wake McKay. He almost made it to the door before Rodney spoke.

"Ronon, you are not going without me; don't even think about it. Help me get out of bed."

"Little man, Beckett said for you to stay here. I'll be right back with news."

"No, I'm going." Rodney was attempting to get out of bed and nearly fell when he caught his IV on the corner of the bed. Ronon rushed over just in time, grabbing Rodney's torso and keeping him on the bed.

"McKay, for once, could you listen; you need to stay here."

McKay looked at Ronon, "No; he risked his life to save me and those women. All of you did; I have to see him, and you have to let me. What happens if he doesn't make it, Ronon? I have to see him to thank him, again, for saving my life, even if he can't hear me."

Ronon stared at him, then spoke, "Wait here; I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Rodney yelled as Ronon walked into the hallway.

"To get you a wheelchair," was the reply that wafted through the doorway.

Beckett and Landry were standing next to Sheppard's bed in the SICU, when Ronon rolled Rodney into the room. He shook his head, but didn't say anything as Ronon shrugged.

Several monitors surrounded Sheppard's bed. There were at least four IV's bags, including a unit of whole blood, hanging from suspended hooks above the head of the bed. He was pale, his skin translucent, like opaque glass; a ventilator was breathing for him.

"Come on over," Beckett said.

"Carson," fear was evident in Rodney's voice.

"Not a lot of change, we had a little crisis a while ago when his blood pressure dropped to a very dangerous level that kept us from moving him as soon we had hoped. However, his pressure's is up, and when he's had a chance to rest, he'll hopefully be more stable."

"Why the vent, can't he breathe on his own?"

"Rodney, his left lung was damaged and had to be re-inflated. Dr. Frankel wants to keep him on the vent until his pressure increases, then we'll wean him off."

They had stood at Sheppard's bedside for several minutes, when Landry spoke, Gentlemen; I think it might be time for you all to get some rest." Rodney, Ronon, and Beckett stared at the general, who continued, "or not."

"Come on, lads, the nurses have things they need to do; let's leave John to their tender mercies. We'll go to the lounge and have some coffee."

"I'll be there in a second; Ronon take the chair, I can walk." Rodney rose from the wheelchair and stood by Sheppard's bed.

"Listen, you crazy-haired, fly-boy, don't you go dying on us; we need you. The awful thing is that the whole time I was being held, I knew you were doing everything you could to find us. I told the women with me, not to worry; help's on the way. But, damn it, why the hell did you have to go and get hurt? Son of a bitch, it should have been me for a change; I get shot in the arm, you get shot in the gut." He stopped for a moment as rage and fear flooded his emotions. "Thank you for coming to save me, just like I knew you would. We all know you'll find us if we're in trouble. Just don't die, you hear me, John, don't die."

A nurse came over, "Sir, we need to do some things to help him, let me take you to your friends." Rodney nodded, and she escorted Rodney to the ICU lounge.

**Day Five: Daytime**

The night was endless. Sheppard suffered two more drastic blood pressure drops, but the staff managed to stabilize him. Around 2:00 am, Rodney appeared to be quite uncomfortable and General Landry forced him to return to his room. Ronon returned with him, coming back and forth to the lounge regularly for updates. The ICU nurses coerced Beckett to get some sleep in the ICU doctor's lounge. As the sun rose over Las Vegas, those gathered around Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief that the colonel had made it through the night.

Rodney returned to the ICU lounge shortly after breakfast. An arrangement he made with his doctor, who was decidedly unhappy he had gotten out of bed during the night. He arrived as Carson entered the lounge to brief them.

"Rodney," Carson asked, "how are you feeling?"

Rodney was anxious, "I'm fine; how's Sheppard?"

"Stable, and he has been for the last two hours; Dr. Frankel is encouraged, as am I. He has a bit more color, and his breathing is improved. Frankel has ordered his nurse to begin to wean him off the vent if his pressure and other vitals are still stable after another hour. We may have turned the corner here; it's perhaps, a bit early to say that absolutely, but he is improving. The nurses are doing some routine things right now, but one of them will let you know when you can go in to see him. I am going to meet with Dr. Frankel to discuss his status and treatment plan. This doctor has been extremely considerate in including me in the colonel's treatment; I'll let you know how that goes."

Carson departed and Ronon told General Landry that he looked like he could use some coffee, and headed for the cafeteria. That left only Landry and McKay in the private waiting room, Detective Marshall had gone home to shower with the promise to return. He was as concerned about Sheppard, as they were.

Rodney watched the tired looking general as he gazed at the television hanging on the wall, watching the news. A complicated man, this general, no one had expected him to turn up, but here he was, sitting in an ICU lounge waiting for word on one of his command.

"General Landry, " Rodney spoke quietly.

"You need something, doctor?"

"No, I just…was just wondering why you were here. I know that Sheppard's badly hurt, but none of us expected to see you. So, other than the obvious reason of Sheppard's injury, why are you here, general?"

Landry grinned ever so slightly, "I'm worried about Sheppard; got to know him when he was at the SGC for those months when Atlan…the base… was back in the hands of the original owners. Sheppard has a penchant for getting into trouble; that's fairly well known. However, not because he's a troublemaker, but because he just couldn't stand by and let something happen when he felt action needed to be taken, especially when people's lives were involved. Hell, I knew when you all took off to rescue O'Neill and Woolsey that in the end, Sheppard would be proven right regarding his actions and wouldn't be in trouble. Besides, O'Neill had been there too many times himself to call Sheppard on it."

Rodney said, "You know he respects you a great deal; in some ways, maybe more than he respects O'Neill. He once remarked that O'Neill understands what we do, because he's done it. You, on the other hand, haven't done what we do; yet you seem to make the right decisions about what we need. You understand the support that Sheppard and all the other commanding officer's require to do their jobs."

Landry was silent for a moment, "That's….that's nice to hear. To answer your question, Rodney, I care about Sheppard, and I care about what all of you have been through in the last few months. That's why I came; I want Sheppard, all of you know that you have my support. I fully realize not a one of you wants to be here, by here I mean here," he spread his arms out to indicate the planet. "I know where you want to be, and I promise I am working toward that goal. The IOA is being a pain in my ass, but I will make it happen."

Rodney brightened, "Really, when?"

Landry laughed, "Down, McKay; it'll happen when it happens."

"You know Sheppard likes Sam Carter best of all."

Landry sighed, "Don't we all, Doctor McKay, don't we all."

Ronon returned with coffee and snacks for both men, and they spent the next several hours waiting as Sheppard became stronger. Very late in the afternoon, after deciding that Sheppard could breathe on his own, the vent was removed. There were some tense moments, as he seemed to have some trouble getting full breathes, but slowly he began to breathe regularly. Beckett was encouraged and insisted that Ronon return to the hotel to rest. Ronon went back to the hotel but only to take a shower and change clothes. He returned in a couple of hours, bringing clothes for Beckett and McKay, who was being discharged the next day. General Landry had gone to his hotel for a rest, promising to return in a few hours.

**Day Six: Midnight**

Exhaustion had finally caught up with McKay, and Ronon had taken him back to his room around 10 pm, then returned to the SICU. Carson was napping in the doctor's lounge and while the unit was quiet, the nurses allowed Ronon to sit with Sheppard for as long as he liked. He had been in the darkened room watching Sheppard sleep for almost two hours when he heard a slight moan. He stood up quickly, and took the short step to the bedside.

"Sheppard, can you hear me?"

Sheppard's head moved slightly toward Ronon's voice, "R-Ron…Ronon.."

"Yeah, it's me, don't talk; I'm gonna get the nurse." He started to walk away when Sheppard reached out and weakly grabbed his arm, "Rod…ney…okay?" His voice weak, rough, but clear.

Ronon grinned, "Yeah, Rodney's fine; now be quiet, I'll be back."

While a nurse went to check on Sheppard, Ronon went to the doctor's lounge and roused Beckett, who jumped up and ran into the unit and Sheppard room. The room was bathed in bright light; the nurse had turned on the light over Sheppard's head.

"Doctor, he's very agitated."

Beckett reached up, dimming the light, "Ah, lassie, I should have told you he hates to wake up to bright light in the infirmary. He'll calm down now, don't worry."

"John, it's Carson, come on, lad; talk to me."

"C-Carson…"

"Welcome back, John; it's good to hear your voice."

"How…l-long…"

A little over thirty-six hours, you've had surgery to repair the damage from the bullet, but you're going to be fine. You're in the surgical intensive care unit at the University Medical Center in Las Vegas."

"Ro-Ronon said Rodney okay, the girls…"

"Not a scratch on them, and the caretaker is going to make it. His injuries were serious; he's here in the SICU as well, but he's going to be fine." Sheppard nodded slightly, but didn't reply. 

Carson asked him, "A sip of water, John?" Sheppard nodded again, and as Beckett reached for the glass and straw, Ronon spoke.

"Doc, I'm gonna go get McKay."

"No, we should let Rodney rest; he'll find out in the morning that Sheppard has awakened."

Ronon frowned and Carson sighed deeply, "You're right; he will kill us if we don't tell him now. Go get him."

Twenty minutes later, Ronon returned with a groggy McKay, who insisted on walking to the SICU.

"Carson, is he still awake?" Carson nodded and Rodney approached the bed.

"Sheppard, it's Rodney; it's about time you woke up."

"S-sorry, not on y-your schedule, 'Kay," there was a definite note of sarcasm in Sheppard's voice.

Rodney smiled, "Yeah, just like you to ruin the vacation."

"Rodney," Carson snipped, angry with the scientist.

"Okay, d-doc, wasn't me…who got kid…napped; his…fault," Sheppard whispered.

Carson laughed, the first laugh in nearly two days, "He's got you there, Rodney. Now, come on, we need to let him rest. The nurses will look out for him, all of you out of here.

Before Rodney left, he leaned over Sheppard's bed, "Listen, flyboy, I never doubted you were coming to save us; just sorry you got hurt." He grabbed Sheppard's hand and felt the colonel weakly squeeze his hand.

By noon the next day, Sheppard had progressed enough to transfer from the SICU to the med-surge floor, where his friends could remain with him full-time. Another twenty-four hours passed and Carson was ecstatic over his improvement; Sheppard was eating better and walking with assistance.

**Day Nine **

General Landry, who had spent a great deal of time at Nellis Air Force base, once Sheppard was out of the woods, dropped by before he returned to the SGC. Detectives Marshall and Burton, stopped by to see Sheppard and update them on the case. Marcella Ponci and the others had been arraigned on numerous charges, including kidnapping and attempted murder. Marshall asked to see Sheppard alone for a minute.

"Colonel, I just wanted to apologize for not wanting you on this case. We couldn't have caught them without your assistance, whatever it was. Thank you." He held out his hand, and Sheppard accepted his handshake.

"Marshall, no hard feelings; you were doing your job, and I was trying to protect my people and save a very valuable member of my team, and a friend."

"Thanks, colonel, speedy recovery, and next time you're in Vegas, look me up, I owe you a drink."

Sheppard was tired after all the company, and Carson ordered everyone to either leave or be quiet. After Sheppard had fallen to sleep, the others busied themselves with games or watching the TV, which was turned very low. It was nearly eleven pm, when Rodney brought up the subject of the hotel.

"When I went to take a shower and change today, I checked with the front desk; we were scheduled to check out yesterday, but Caesars offered to leave our reservation open-ended, we can stay until we want. They were quite willing to do anything that we wanted considering Sheppard recovered all their money. I think it's best to stay here while Sheppard recuperates. Carson, what do you think?"

"Yes, Rodney, I thi.."

"No…" Sheppard said weakly.

They all got up and went to Sheppard's bed. Rodney responded, "No, what do you mean no?"

"Reservations made at Lake Mead," he paused, catching his breath, "rented houseboat, taking Carson fishing."

Carson was smiling broadly, "Fishing, colonel, on a houseboat; my uncle had a houseboat I used to spend time on, it was great fun."

Rodney frowned, "Oh joy."

Sheppard sniped, "McKay, shut up; Carson, info's on my laptop. Bring it to me in the morning and I'll get it for you."

"I can retrieve the information from your laptop," Rodney said.

"If you think I'm going to let you hack into my computer, McKay, you're crazy."

"What do you think I'd…"

"Both of you, enough; John, Rodney and I are going to the hotel tonight, Ronon is staying with you because he refused to go. We will see you in the morning. Sleep well and Ronon, call us if you need us. Come on, Rodney."

**Day Ten: Morning**

The next morning, Carson and Rodney arrived before breakfast, Sheppard's laptop in hand. Sheppard retrieved the houseboat reservation information, which made Carson almost giddy. Sheppard was scheduled for an MRI to make certain all of his surgical repairs were healing without complications. About an hour and a half later, when he returned to his room, Rodney was tapping away at a computer.

"That better be your computer, Rodney." Sheppard said as the tech helped him back into bed. Rodney frowned at him and didn't reply.

"Where's Ronon and Carson?"

"They went to Lake Mead to check on the houseboat. Carson was way too excited; it's embarrassing."

"You let Carson and Ronon drive to Lake Mead, McKay; what were you thinking?"

"Carson can drive, what's the problem?"

"Can he stay on the right side of the road, is my question. Geez, McKay, you should have made them wait until I got back."

"What, were you going to drive them?"

Sheppard stared at him, reached for his cell phone, and called Carson, who assured him everything was fine. He found himself fretting for four hours until an excited Carson and Ronon burst through the door.

"John, the houseboat is a palace, the thing's seventy feet long. I even got to take her out of the marina and back, so I'd know how to handle her. The interior is amazing, and Rodney, they have Wi-Fi, so you are not going to go nuts."

Ronon was beaming, "It's really cool, Sheppard."

"Yeah, it is and they have a great bait and tackle shop, I got some new stuff that I was playing with on our way back."

Sheppard swallowed, "On your way back, while you were driving?"

"Oh, no; Ronon was driving."

"Ro-Ronon was driving, Ronon can't drive."

"Yeah, I can; we had vehicles on Sateda."

Carson said, "He has a license, colonel."

Sheppard sank back on his pillow, "It's a fake, for ID only, you know that."

"Well, he did good, but if it makes you feel better, I took over when we got close to town."

"No, it doesn't, but it's done; no one goes anywhere without me again."

Rodney smirked, "Well, he's feeling better; back ordering us around again."

Carson ignored Rodney, "John, on the way up here, I ran into Dr. Frankel. He said you are healing faster than he had expected; he's quite pleased. I discussed his discharging you from the hospital into my care. He said if you ate well tonight and your vitals were good tomorrow, he would discharge you. We'll go back to the hotel, get packed up tonight, and we'll head straight to Lake Mead from here.

**Day Eleven: Morning…On to Lake Mead**

The next morning, Dr. Frankel stopped by to examine Sheppard, and after laying some ground rules, discharged him from the hospital into Dr. Beckett's care. Rodney went to the business office to take care of Esteban Sanchez's bill. Milagros has stopped in the day before to thank Sheppard and Rodney for saving them, and brought a gift for Sheppard, a rosary. She told him that no matter his beliefs, she wanted him to have her rosary and hoped that it would keep him safe.

Carson took Sheppard's things, and headed downstairs to bring the Range Rover to the hospital entrance. Ronon remained with Sheppard to accompany him downstairs.

Sheppard emerged from the bathroom, attempting to walk as if he were perfectly fine, Carson, however, had warned Ronon that Sheppard was not nearly as strong as he was trying to make them believe. Ronon stood just outside the bathroom door, and when Sheppard stumbled, Ronon kept him from falling.

"Hey, big guy; thanks," Sheppard said as Ronon helped him ease down on the side of the bed. Sheppard had managed to get his jeans on but he was having trouble with his shirt. His entire torso was tender and movement was painful. Ronon grabbed it from him and helped him slid his arms into the dark blue shirt. When Ronon started to button his shirt, Sheppard slapped his hand away, and gingerly buttoned it himself.

"You know, you don't have to act like you don't hurt. We all know how bad your injury was."

Sheppard frowned, "I'm fine," and started to bend down to put on his shoes. A moan escaped his lips, and a fine bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Ronon rolled his eyes, "Yeah, _fine_; stop, I'll do it." He knelt down and put Sheppard's shoes on and laced them.

"Don't tell Beckett," he said when Ronon finished.

Ronon began to take the cuff off his right wrist, Sheppard watched, then realized it was his leather cuff. "That's the cuff you gave me."

Ronon motioned for him to put out his wrist, and Sheppard complied as Ronon explained, "The paramedic from the helicopter removed it to put an IV in your hand. He was afraid you hand would swell, so he wanted it off. I decided to hold it for you until you walked out of here." He fastened the cuff and took a step backwards. Sheppard ran the fingers of his left hand over the braiding along the edge of the cuff.

He didn't look up as he quietly said, "Thanks; I'm glad you were with me."

Ronon patted Sheppard on the shoulder and both men were spared anything further conversation as a nurse's aide rolled a wheelchair into the room. Sheppard with help from Ronon sat in the chair and after a quick goodbye at the nurse's station, they headed for the hospital entrance.

Rodney and Carson were waiting for them, and Sheppard attempted to get up as though he was fully recovered. Carson stepped in front of the wheelchair, "Just what do you think you're doing, laddie. You are still extremely weak, and probably should be in this hospital for another two, possibly three days. You are not going to do anything for the next forty-eight hours, unless I tell you can."

"Yeah, doc; you were right, he almost fell trying to get dressed." Sheppard glared at Ronon, as the Satedan did exactly what Sheppard asked him not to do, but Ronon just smirked back.

Beckett looked at Ronon, "Aye, Ronon; I expected that, help him into the car."

Sheppard stared at the doctor, but nodded to Ronon, which immediately told his friends that the colonel knew he needed help. No one chose to state that fact that out loud.

"Okay, people, let's get going," Rodney said, as he got in the driver's seat.

"Hey, McKay, I'll drive," Ronon volunteered.

From the back seat, Sheppard sighed, "Get in the car, Chewie; you're not driving." 

As McKay pulled on to the street, Carson was grinning broadly and announced, "On to Lake Mead, for a few days of fishing, relaxing; this is going to be such fun!"

Rodney groaned.

**Notes:**

The quote, _"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."_ by Ralph Waldo Emerson, was sent to me by a very close friend. Her fourteen-year-old daughter included this quote in a message she wrote in my friend's Mother's Day card. To be considered a hero by a fourteen-year-old is high praise indeed.

The Liberace Museum closed on October 17, 2010. This story is set in September 2010. The Liberace Foundation is still in operation, providing scholarships for young musicians.


	6. Part 4 Gone Fishing Day 1 to 3

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: Part Four Gone Fishin'… **

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Four…Day One and Two 12,060

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **Our guys are now at Lake Mead, Sheppard is recuperating from his gunshot wound, Carson gets to fish, Ronon is soaking up Earth culture (and all the Mountain Dew he can drink), and Rodney's whining. A nice, quite time just goofing off, relaxing, and recuperating on the lake. They can't get into trouble here, can they?

(The lake lends itself to a more leisurely pace…so I hope you enjoy! This is only the first two days, there will be more Lake Mead adventures...)

* * *

**ROAD TRIP**

_by stella_pegasi_

**Part Four Gone Fishin'… **

_**Day One**_

"He's asleep already? We're not out of the Vegas city limits yet, is that all he's going to do, sleep?"

Carson leaned forward, "Rodney, please keep your voice low; John needs as much rest as possible." He watched as Rodney flexed his left arm gingerly, "How is your arm feeling today?"

Rodney peered in the rear-view mirror at Carson, and snapped, "How do you think it feels? I was shot, remember?"

Carson snapped back, "No need to be so cheeky."

Rodney's expression turned sheepish, "My arm's okay; doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did a couple of days ago. I only took three Advil this morning."

Ronon glanced over his shoulder at Carson, a mischievous grin on his face, then said to Rodney, "McKay, if you're hurting, I'll drive."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Carson, you should have never let him drive. He's going to pester me all the way to the lake."

Rodney's whining managed only to elicit a chuckle from Carson, who patted Ronon on the shoulder, winking at the big guy.

Before they departed Las Vegas, Carson decided they should shop for groceries at a large supermarket, the small grocery at the marina didn't have a great variety. Leaving Sheppard and Ronon in the car, he and Rodney shopped for supplies, enough supplies to prompt Sheppard to ask if they'd left anything in the store. Ronon only wanted to know if they had bought Mountain Dew; Carson assured him they did. After cramming the numerous bags of groceries into the Rover, they headed for Lake Mead.

They'd been on the road for approximately thirty-five minutes; no one had spoken, lost in their own thoughts. Rodney finally broke the silence.

"I thought some of the planets we visited were desolate, but I never realize we had the same boring terrain on Earth. This is past boring, nothing but mile after mile of yucky, gray sand and scrub, punctuated with rolling hills…it's boring."

"I like it," Ronon announced brightly.

Rodney snarked, "Yeah…well, you would, Conon."

"McKay, you should be more aware of the beauty of your world; you almost lost your planet." Ronon responded in a subdued voice.

Rodney was about to reply when he felt a kick to the back of his seat, "Yeah, Rodney…if it hadn't been for Zelenka, we might not be here to enjoy the scenery," Sheppard taunted. His voice was weak but there was no doubting his humorous tone.

"Zelenka…Zelenka wouldn't have pulled off the wormhole drive if I hadn't figured it out first," McKay sputtered.

"Quit being so defensive, McKay; you have to admit Zelenka did the exact calculations that allowed Atlantis to arrive in time. You have to give him credit for that."

"Well, I…uh…yeah, okay…I'll give Zelenka that."

Sheppard's chuckle turned to a groan as he sat up, having slouched down in the seat as he napped.. Quickly looking at Beckett, he said, "Don't…just don't; I'm sore that's all." He pushed himself the rest of the way up, "We close to the marina?"

Ronon answered, "Yeah…only a couple more miles; would've been there sooner if I was driving, McKay drives like an old man."

"I do not."

Sheppard and Beckett were laughing heartily. Beckett squeaked out, "Yeah…you do."

"Just because I drive the speed limit, doesn't mean…"

Sheppard interrupted, "At least, he can keep the car straight; he can't keep a jumper flying straight."

"Listen, flyboy, I'll have you…"

"Water, I see water," Ronon said, pointing out the windshield.

In the distance, a sliver of blue was visible between the pale gray-beige hills. They were going downhill as the road dropped to the level of the lake. Within a few minutes, they were past the hilly landscape and the Callville Bay Marina, with its wide, expansive boat ramp, came into view. Beyond the ramp floated several docks where motorboats and houseboats were berthed. The water was dark azure, a slight chop allowing the bright midday sunlight to cast a glittery glow on the surface.

"Rodney, the long-term parking lot is on the left, try to find a parking place as close to the docks as you can. I don't want John walking any further than necessary."

"Carson, I can walk," Sheppard replied but gave up when he saw Carson's glare.

Rodney turned left into the driveway entrance, and headed toward the marina, fortunately finding a parking place within a few slots of the docks. Carson tapped Ronon on the shoulder before he exited the car.

"Here," handing Ronon a set of keys, "these open the salon door, you remember which houseboat is ours? It's tied on the fourth dock, on the very end." Ronon nodded and Carson continued, "You take John on down there; Rodney and I will start unloading the groceries." He turned to Sheppard, who had unbuckled his seatbelt, his hand on the door handle. "Oh no, laddie, you wait for Ronon to help you. The last thing I need is for you to get dizzy and fall into the loch."

Sheppard sighed, removing his hand, dutifully waiting for Ronon. The Satedan opened Sheppard's door and held out his hand, which Sheppard brushed away, a very unhappy look on his face. "I am not an invalid, Ronon; I can get out of the car all by myself."

Slowly exiting the car, Sheppard was determined not to permit them to see that he was dizzy and in pain. His efforts were for naught; he stumbled as his foot hit the pavement, nearly falling before Ronon caught him.

"Sheppard, you either let me support you, or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you. Which is it?" Ronon had planted his body in front of the car door. Sheppard frowned but nodded his acceptance of help. Ronon steadied the colonel as he stepped out of the car, and they slowly headed for the houseboat, Ronon's hand glued to Sheppard's upper-right arm.

By the time, Rodney and Carson arrived with the first load of groceries, Ronon had settled Sheppard in a chair on the main deck. Carson quickly noticed how pale and shaky Sheppard appeared, tiny beads of sweat on his brow.

"Are you hungry, John?"

"No, not really…I ate almost all of my breakfast this morning."

"I think a good lunch and some pain meds, followed by a wee bit of rest are in your future, colonel." As Sheppard started to protest, Carson stopped him. "No arguments, you agreed to Dr. Frankel's conditions for your discharge, and one of his conditions was that you were to do what I tell you. You rest here; I'm gonna help unload the rest of the groceries from the Rover."

Ronon put his hand on Carson's shoulder, "McKay and I will get the rest of the food and the luggage, you stay here."

Rodney's mouth opened long enough to say, "You realize how many trips it's…." before Ronon dragged him off the houseboat.

Sheppard frowned, "Carson, go help them you don't need to babysit."

"Enough, come into the salon while I start putting the groceries away. We turned on the AC yesterday when we were here, it should be nice and cool." Carson helped Sheppard up and steered him toward one of the two couches in the main salon, where Sheppard stretched out. Carson opened a cabinet, pulling out a glass, filled it with ice from the dispenser in the refrigerator door and opened a bottle of water. From his medical bag, he pulled out a vial of pills and took a couple out.

"Here, take these," Beckett held out his palm, "and I don't want to hear an argument." Sheppard took the pills without saying a word.

Carson busied himself with stowing the groceries. About five minutes later, Rodney and Ronon came in loaded with more bags. Rodney was huffing; he dropped his bags at the doorway, hurrying to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "This is still warm."

Carson smiled sweetly, "Yes, it is Rodney; I just put them in there, get a glass from that cabinet and ice from the thingy in the door."

Ronon deposited his bags on the dining table and then retrieved the bags Rodney was carrying. "Come on, McKay, couple more loads and we'll be done." Rodney didn't budge, drinking his glass of water down in one continuous gulp. Ronon crossed his arms, "McKay."

Rodney sighed dejectedly, his shoulder drooping, "Oh…I like it better when there are bellhops." Ronon continued to frown at him. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

"Rodney, I'll have lunch ready when you finish, now go with Ronon."

As Rodney walked passed Sheppard lying on the couch, he turned to Carson, "Is he asleep…again."

"Shush, Rodney… you'll wake him. I gave John some pain meds, now go help Ronon and be quiet." Beckett waved his hand, dismissing Rodney, who shrugged and followed Ronon.

As the sound of Rodney and Ronon's footsteps faded, Carson said quietly, "Laddie, I only gave you a light pain med, didn't want you sleeping before you ate. So, you aren't asleep are you?"

"Nope…just preferred not to fuel McKay's whining."

Carson chuckled, "Smart man."

By the time Rodney and Ronon made two more trips to get the luggage, Carson had lunch on the table. Rodney dropped the suitcases he was carrying in the center of the salon and immediately started making a sandwich.

Carson snipped, "Rodney McKay, you put that bread down, and put away these suitcases. I want this all cleared before you eat."

Rodney frowned, "Who are you, my mother?" His snarky tone only managed to elicit a facetious grin from Carson.

Rodney grabbed his bags, heading to one of the bedrooms on the main deck level. Carson spotted him, "Where do you think you're going? You take one of the cabins below."

Rodney turned toward Carson, grouching, "Why?"

"Because Rodney, John will be taking one of the cabins on this deck and I will be taking the other, you and Ronon will bunk down below."

"How come you get one of the bedrooms on this deck?"

Carson put down the paper plates he was holding, and turned to Rodney, "John does not need to be going up and down stairs any more than he has to, and I need to be close to John. The bedrooms on the lower deck are the same size and just as nice, now take your things downstairs."

Rodney hesitated, obviously chagrined, "Okay… uh…I'll just take my stuff downstairs." Ronon grabbed his stuff and followed, slapping Carson on the back as he passed by.

As the doctor finished setting the table, Sheppard mumbled, "Carson, you are going to make someone a very good mother."

"Don't get cheeky, Colonel Sheppard; I know where the syringes are."

Sheppard scrunched up his face, "Ouch…you win, doc."

"You need to remember that, laddie." Carson walked over to him, "Feel like sitting at the table to eat."

Sheppard gripped the back of the couch and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The exertion caused him to be a little breathless, but he swung his legs around to the floor and stood up. Rather, he attempted to stand; he rose approximately six inches off the couch, then sat back down. He looked up at Carson, frustration on his face, "A little help please."

Carson feigned surprise, "Was John Sheppard asking for help?"

Sheppard sighed, dropping his head to his chest, "Who's being cheeky now?"

Carson slipped his arm under Sheppard's and pulled the colonel to his feet, supporting him until Sheppard was less wobbly. He asked, "Can you walk to the table on your own?"

A nod was the only answer he could manage. Shakily, he traversed the few steps to the table, and sat down. Breathing shallowly, he said, "Carson, you keep quiet about this, okay?"

He chuckled, "Our little secret John, I promise. I'm certain Ronon and Rodney won't even notice that you are extremely weak from being shot just a few days ago."

"I just don't want them hovering over me, like I'm some kind of invalid."

Carson scowled, as he sat down next to Sheppard, "I'm beginning to believe I should've left you in the hospital. It was too early; perhaps I should take you back."

Sheppard glared at him, then his expression softened as he realized that Carson was teasing him, "Sorry. I promise I'll do what you tell me, if you promise not to smother me."

"John, you lost a lot of blood when you were shot, and the bullet wreaked havoc on your insides. You hadn't had time to recover fully from the injury at the roadhouse. It's understandable that it's taking a bit of time to recover from this. You really shouldn't have left the hospital; I was surprised that Dr. Frankel discharged you."

Sheppard chewed on his lower lip before he replied, "I'm just tired of this shit. What are we, two weeks into our leave? I've spent five-six days in the hospital, kept all of you from having fun." He dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the table.

"Aye, lad, you have; but you saved a bunch of people at the roadhouse, and you rescued Rodney and those girls, and recovered all the money. You did well, except for once again, getting yourself hurt."

"Yeah, I gotta stop doing that."

Sounds of bickering were coming up the stairs, and Carson quickly asked, "You sure you feel like sitting up for a while?" Sheppard nodded, and Carson said, "Okay, but you let me know if you need to lie down."

Rodney and Ronon sat down at the table, Rodney looking peeved and Ronon smug. Sheppard had to ask, "Rodney, did you just suck on a lemon or something?"

"He's just mad because I took the cabin on the end of boat," Ronon said.

Rodney snarked, "Stern…it's the stern of the boat, not the 'end of the boat.'

Beckett was getting ice from the freezer, "Rodney you are being especially testy today; you need to eat something. Now, sit down and fix yourself a plate."

The four friends busied themselves the next several minutes making sandwiches, and eating. Ronon piled his plate, and began eating with gusto, causing Sheppard to chuckle. "A little fresh air does our boy good," but taking note of the 2-liter Mountain Dew next to Ronon, he added, "Carson, I don't think you bought enough Dew."

Rodney asked, "So, what now; what do we do on Lake Mead?"

"We have fun, Rodney," Carson answered.

"Well, that tells me a lot."

"Rodney, the idea of a vacation is to relax, do what you want to do. If you choose to sit inside in the AC and play with your computer, then do it. No one is going to stop you," Sheppard replied.

Ronon had finished two large roast beef sandwiches, double servings of potato salad, and nearly all of his Dew, "I wanna swim."

Sheppard shook his head, "I'd join you, big guy, but I have a feeling 'Momma Carson' isn't going to allow me to do that." His slight grimace did not go unnoticed.

"No swimming for you, laddie." Carson looked at Sheppard's plate, "You've just picked at your food. John, you need to eat, you've lost entirely too much weight." Turning toward Ronon, he asked, "Would you take John's bags into the room across from the bathroom and mine in the other?" Ronon nodded, and moved the bags into the cabins.

Carson started clearing the empty plates, leaving Rodney and John at the table. Rodney studied his friend for a moment, then queried, "So, you feeling any better?"

Between bites of watermelon, Sheppard answered, "Yeah, just tired, Rodney."

Rodney squirmed, clearly uncomfortable, "You should rest. I mean; you…well…you're injured because you had to save my ass again."

Sheppard deadpanned, "Feeling guilty, McKay?"

He hesitated before he answered, stumbling over his words, "I…I; yeah, I am."

Sheppard lowered his head, not wanting Rodney to see him smile at his friend's admission to feeling guilt. "You didn't cause this, Rodney. You were a victim, just like the two women who were taken with you. All victims of a bunch of bad guys. Shit happens; you've been in Pegasus long enough to know that, so stop blaming yourself. Besides, I didn't do a very good job protecting you, you were shot, too."

McKay frowned, "I get it; Colonel John Sheppard is allowed to feel guilty, but I can't. Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Carson returned to the table, picking up Sheppard's plate of nibbled-at food with a look of resignation. "You lads are going to be the death of me." Noting the dull pain in the colonel's green eyes, Carson sighed. "John, it's time for meds and a rest, so off to bed with you, lad." He turned to Ronon, who was sitting on a couch, "Would you take the stubborn colonel to his cabin and help him get undressed. I'll be there in a minute."

"I don't need help," Sheppard complained. When Carson only cocked his head in reply, Sheppard gave up, and allowed Ronon to help him stand. Sheppard walked the short distance to his cabin on his own.

When Carson arrived a few minutes later, med kit in hand, Ronon was leaning against the dresser while Sheppard fumbled with getting his shirt off. Ronon simply shrugged when Carson looked at him questioningly. Quietly, Carson motioned for the Satedan to leave.

"Come on, lad; you are hell-bent on doing this yourself, get on with it. I want to check your wounds; so, hurry up, get undressed." Beckett stepped back from the bed, leaning against the dresser and waited.

Sheppard gave the doctor a nasty smirk and proceeded with removing his shirt. As he bent over to take off his shoes, he couldn't stifle a groan. He felt Carson's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Enough, lad," Carson said quietly. He slipped Sheppard's shoes off, then told him to lie down. After examining the colonel's wounds, Carson gave him an injection.

Carson pulled the bedcovers over him, "You rest; I'll get you up for dinner, which you will eat."

As Sheppard drifted off, he heard a happy bellow, and a resounding splash of water, no doubt Ronon going for a swim. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~~ooOoo~~

John Sheppard awoke slowly, aware that the once bright cabin was now dim, violet light spilling in the windows. Familiar sounds floating toward him; water lapping a hull, recognized voices, warm and comforting. For a moment, he imagined he was on Atlantis. Then the aroma of grilled meat filled his nostrils, and he felt hungry for the first time in days. He gingerly pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He had to admit that he felt better after taking a nap, maybe he should listen to Carson more often. He scoffed; it would probably be smarter just to keep from getting injured all the time. He whispered, "Yeah, like that'll happen, John." He pushed himself up, wobbling a bit, and reached for his shirt, which was lying on a chair. Padding across the room, he opened the door, stepping into the short narrow passageway.

Rodney was sitting at the dining table, intent on his laptop in front of him. Stretched out on one of the couches, Ronon had the TV remote in hand, the sound of gunfire coming from the flatscreen. Carson disappeared out the salon door to the small deck on the bow of the houseboat, where smoke was rising from a gas grill.

Sheppard crept across the hall into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. After washing his hands, he splashed cold water on his face. Carson was right; he had lost a lot of weight. His face was gaunt, slight stubble covering the paleness. That morning, a pretty nurse had decided he needed a shave before he was discharged, despite his protests. At least now, he didn't have to shave unless he chose to shave. However, he did have to eat and at that moment, eating sounded wonderful; time to put some weight back on. He managed to get as far as the dining room table before Ronon noticed him.

"Hey, Sheppard," Ronon grinned.

Rodney looked up from his laptop, an anxious look on his face, "You, okay?"

"I'm fine, Rodney; just really hungry, when's dinner?"

Carson entered the salon, the smell of steaks on the grill wafting into the salon with him, "A wee bit hungry are you? Well, that's a good sign, and to answer your question dinner will be ready shortly."

"Good, I'm almost hungry enough to eat some of that haggis with whiskey sauce you keep raving about."

Carson grinned, "Ah, have a hankering for some haggis myself, laddie. Now, sit down on the couch and relax, the steaks will be ready in a few minutes."

Sheppard did as the doctor told him. Ronon got up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers, and handed one to Sheppard.

"O'Doul's, really? Ronon's got a Bud; this isn't fair," Sheppard lamented, staring at the beer bottle.

Carson laughed, "No alcohol for you 'til you are off the pain meds, John. Thank Rodney for thinking about getting you some non-alcoholic beer to pacify you."

Sheppard seemed surprised, "Thanks, Rodney, nice of you to think of that. I believe Ben Franklin said it best, 'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.'"

Rodney snarked, "Franklin never said that, he was talking about wine, not beer."

"I know, Rodney but it sounds better with beer," Sheppard took a swig of O'Doul's, making a face as he swallowed.

Ronon asked, "Franklin that guy who invented electricity? What did he say?"

"Not invented, just discovered, sort of. The actual quote is 'Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine, a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.'"

"You memorized that quote, Rodney? I'm shocked; it's not a very well-known quote of Franklin's." Sheppard remarked, his left eyebrow rising in surprise.

Everyone noticed Rodney was getting a tiny bit flushed, "I…I learned it in college, it just stuck with me."

Carson snickered as he removed five large baked potatoes from the oven, "I bet Rodney learned that quote because of a girl."

From the several shades of pink McKay turned, there was no doubt Carson was on to something. Sheppard chuckled, "I think you might be right, doc; I believe our Rodney has a secret he hasn't told us. Come on, McKay, spill the beans, tell us about her."

Rodney was a deep shade of beet red, "There's nothing to tell…"

Carson interrupted, "See, I told you there was a girl."

"She wasn't anything special; she was a history professor. I didn't want to take American history but I, well…I ended up liking the class. Her favorite historical character was Benjamin Franklin, so I just remembered that quote."

Ronon asked, a bit leeringly, "Trying to impress her, McKay?"

"Well, Rodney wouldn't be the first college student to try and 'impress' his professor," Sheppard answered.

"Like you never hit on one of your professors, flyboy."

"Well, McKay, most of my professors at the Academy looked like General Landry, so no…I didn't. Now, if one of them had looked like Colonel Carter; well, that would have been a different story."

At the mention of Sam Carter, Rodney got even redder, "She's certainly got better taste than you."

Sheppard laughed so hard he gasped from the pain shooting through his chest, "I suppose you think that if she had to choose, Sam would choose you over me; dream on, McKay."

Carson apparently decided that they had gone far enough teasing Rodney, "Come on, Rodney; I need help getting the steaks in. Ronon, make sure John gets to the table."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at the table, enjoying steaks, baked potatoes, pasta salad, and garlic bread. Carson was watching Sheppard, who was eating heartily.

"John, your appetite seems to be back; that's good to see."

"Good food does that to me. Where did you learn to cook?"

"Me mum thought I should learn to cook just like my sisters; so she taught me right along with them. I actually enjoy it, nice to be able to cook for a change."

"I hear ya; I like to cook, too."

Rodney sputtered, "You…you cook?"

"Yeah, I can cook, what's so surprising about that?"

"Well, Mr. Macho Flyboy, you don't seem the type."

Sheppard stared into space for a moment, "Miss Gilly, the woman who raised my brother and me after our mother died, is from Jamaica. We met her, and her daughter Madeline when I was five; my dad was working with the Jamaican government on an energy project, and brought us with him. Miss Gilly was the housekeeper at the house my parents rented. She and my mom became best friends in the month we were there. Miss Gilly's husband was killed during a riot in Kingston a couple of years before; he was a government worker, who was trying to get home and got caught in the violence."

He paused, "My mother didn't want to leave Jamaica without them, and my father could never refuse her anything. He made all the arrangements, sponsored them, and they came home with us. After…well, afterward, she raised Dave and me. Dave had no desire to learn to cook; he was like my father, but Miss Gilly taught Maddie and me to cook. Some of the most fun I had during those years."

He realized that everyone was hanging on every word he was saying, which embarrassed him. Sheppard didn't talk much about his past, and didn't know why he had today. He decided it must be the pain meds making him mellow. Sheepishly, he changed the subject.

"So what did you guys do while I was 'resting'."

Ronon beamed, "I went swimming and then Carson rented a din…" He looked to Carson for the word.

"Dingy…well, it's actually a seventeen-foot Boston Whaler, not exactly a dingy; I just called it that." He waved his hand for Ronon to continue.

"We went out in the boat to get an idea of where we wanted to go tomorrow." Ronon grinned, "Becket let me drive the boat."

McKay snarked, "I told you Carson should have never let him drive."

"Oh, hush your yakking, Rodney; Ronon handled the boat like a pro, better than you could, I imagine."

"So where are we going?" Sheppard asked.

Carson got up and grabbed a nautical map from the cabinet next to the pilot's chair in the salon. As he handed the map to Sheppard, he said, "I think we should go check out the dam first. It's less than ten miles from here, then we can find a good spot to anchor and do some fishing."

As he perused the map, Sheppard asked, "You gotten any fishing in yet?"

"I dropped a pole in the water for a bit, once Ronon and I returned, didn't catch anything." He beamed, "It felt good, laddie."

Sheppard smiled, and took another bite of steak, then pushed his plate away. Carson noticed his action, "You were doing so well, John, but you only ate about half of your meal."

"I was hungry, but just got filled up fast…but the steaks were great." Carson took his plate away without comment.

"Rodney, get up and help clear the table," Carson instructed. To Sheppard's surprise, Rodney did so without complaint, even helping to wash the dishes. He was going to have to ask the good doctor how he managed that feat.

Ronon got up, "Come on Sheppard, l was watching a movie, want to finish it."

Sheppard gingerly walked to one of the couches, "What are you watching?"

Ronon picked up the DVD case, "It's called "Die Hard or Live Free."

"You haven't seen this yet? I thought we had it on Atlantis."

"No, I haven't seen it; just started watching about ten minutes before dinner."

"Cool," Sheppard grinned excitedly, "so, you haven't seen the scene with the fighter jet yet? Ronon shook his head, and Sheppard said, "You're gonna love it."

They settled in to watch, and shortly Carson and Rodney joined them. Toward the end of the movie when the scene with the jet came on, Sheppard and Ronon, along with Beckett, became quite animated, excitedly commenting on the action as it happened. Sheppard paused the movie; he wanted to watch the scene again.

Ronon said, "That was cool."

Rodney scoffed, "That's all done by special effects. No pilot could fly like that; the planes weren't designed to maneuver that way."

Ronon took offense, "Hey Sheppard could fly like that."

Rodney replied, "Yeah, right; I'll give you that he can fly anything, but he can't do that," pointing to the screen.

"He can," Ronon pronounced, and threw a pillow at Rodney, which hit him in the head messing up his hair.

"What the….Why did you do that?" Rodney whined as he ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it down. On impulse, he threw the pillow back at Ronon, who threw it once again toward Rodney, except Rodney ducked and the pillow hit Sheppard in the chest. The colonel winced from the impact.

Beckett jumped up from his chair. "That's enough, you two are acting like children. Now sit down and behave or there won't be any ice cream for either one of you." He was standing in front of the television, hands-on-hips when he noticed that Sheppard was laughing.

"What is so hilarious to you, Colonel Sheppard?"

"You are; I think we will have to call you, "Momma Carson" from now on."

"Well, laddie, they could have hurt you," Carson said a serious look on his face, but as he stood there, he began to smile. "Yeah, I guess I would make someone a good mother. I have certainly had enough practice having to deal with the three of you behaving like children."

"Did you say ice cream?" Rodney asked, hopefully.

Carson sighed, "Yes, ice cream, and you can help me; don't start the movie yet, John."

When the movie ended, Carson realized that Sheppard was asleep again. He walked over and gently shook Sheppard awake.

"Come on, John; wake up; time for you to go to bed."

Mumbling, Sheppard replied, "Sleep here."

"No, no; you need to be in a real bed, let's go," Carson motioned for Ronon to help.

Reluctantly, Sheppard retreated to his cabin and allowed Ronon to help him into bed. He also neglected to complain when Carson gave him another shot for pain. He wouldn't admit he was hurting, but he was, probably from sitting up as much as he had during the evening.

Carson pulled his door shut as he left the room, but Sheppard could still hear Rodney whining, "Ronon, are you planning on eating all the ice cream?" As drifted to sleep, Sheppard thought 'Momma Carson" had his hands full.

~~ooOoo~~

_**Day Two**_

Sunlight was streaming into the cabin as Sheppard awoke. The gentle rocking motion he felt made him think he was on Atlantis for a moment. As he gradually opened his eyes, he realized he wasn't at home. The walls surrounding him were white; pale wood cabinets were scattered about the room, and a brightly patterned bedspread covered him. He sighed, "Okay John, definitely not on Atlantis." As he breathed deeply, he caught the aroma of coffee and bacon, and Rodney's voice. He couldn't make out exactly what McKay was complaining about, but he caught two words, Ronon, and bacon. "That can't be good," he whispered. He decided it was time to get up and rescue Carson.

Sheppard threw back the covers, and swung his legs onto the floor. The first thing he realized was that he wasn't quite as tired as he had been yesterday, and he didn't hurt quite as much. As he pushed off the bed to stand, he winced; the pain radiating across his chest was there, but without the sharp, take his breath away intensity as before. He crossed the short distance to the dresser, where his suitcase was sitting and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of track pants.

A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he leaned on the dresser for a moment before he was able to continue. Once his head cleared, he sat on the bed, and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"Oh yeah John, that hurt," he mumbled as he tried to straighten out his right arm realizing he should have put on a buttoned shirt. He decided if he ever took the t-shirt off, he wouldn't make that mistake again. Putting on the track pants proved to be just as tricky. After a couple of attempts, first standing, then sitting in an attempt to put them on, he laid down on the bed, bending his knees and managed to get the pants on. Standing up, he pulled them the rest of the way, vowing not to change clothes ever again.

He snuck across the short corridor to the bathroom, fearing that if Carson saw him, the overprotective doctor would send Ronon to help him. He was doing just fine all by himself…until he fell. His yelp and the ensuing thud brought his friends running to the bathroom door.

Carson rushed in, dropping to his knees, "Laddie, you stubborn…did you hit your head?" He started to run his fingers across Sheppard's scalp.

"Stop, Carson," he swatted the doctor's hand away. "I didn't hit my head. I didn't see that damn trash can, and I tripped over it on the way out; caught myself with my left arm, I'm ok." Carson motioned for Ronon, who stepped into the bathroom and helped Sheppard to his feet.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" Carson asked which elicited a scowl from Sheppard. Carson tried not to laugh, somewhat unsuccessfully, "I'm sorry John; do you hurt anywhere that you didn't hurt when you came in here?

"No; now can I get some coffee?"

They headed for the kitchen and after Sheppard sat down, Rodney placed a mug of coffee in front of him. Sheppard remarked, somewhat startled, "I must be sick if you're waiting on me." Rodney's expression appeared bewildered, and he quickly added, "Thanks, appreciate it."

Carson asked, "Scrambled eggs okay with you, John?"

"Yeah, and throw in some cheese if you don't mind."

"Ronon, stop eating all the bacon," Rodney whined, as Ronon grabbed a couple of slices.

Carson was stirring the eggs, "Rodney, hush. I already put more bacon in the microwave, there's going to be plenty of bacon."

Sheppard sat quietly sipping his coffee, observing his friends. He preferred the atmosphere on the houseboat, so much cozier than the glitzy Caesar's Palace, fresh air, sunshine, no street noise. However, Carson was doing the brunt of the work. He needed to get healthier soon, so he could help cook. He was surprised that he felt an itch to cook; he hadn't cooked in a very long time. The last time he cooked was when he took a few days leave before the expedition first left for Atlantis. He had rented a small cabin in the mountains to get away from everyone and think about what lay ahead for him. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the exact moment when he committed to joining the Atlantis expedition. He had gone for a long hike and decided to rest on a hill next to a railroad bridge. On impulse, he pulled a coin from his pocket, flipping it to decide if he would go on the mission. He flipped the coin but never looked at it; he had known for a long time he was going to go. Sheppard chuckled silently, if he hadn't, O'Neill would have hunted him down and dragged him to the SGC. He wondered if he had imagined any of the events that had happened to them in the last six years, if he would have made the same decision. As he watched his friends busy themselves getting ready for breakfast, the answer was obvious. He wouldn't trade any of the horrible situations they had endured for the friendship of any one of them.

"John…John…is that enough eggs?" He roused from his thoughts to see Carson standing next to him with a huge skillet of scrambled eggs. He answered yes, and Carson then served everyone else. Sheppard was hungry, suspecting the fresh air had something to do with his appetite.

Before he sat down, Carson retrieved some pills from his bag, "Here; no shot this morning. I want to see if we can get by with the pills."

Sheppard took the pills, "Okay by me; I sure don't want to sleep all day. So, when are we heading to the dam?"

"Once we're done with breakfast and get everything put away, we'll head out. I checked the weather and it's gonna be nice all day, but the forecast calls for thunderstorms during the evening. I want to be certain that we get to good anchor before the weather gets nasty."

Rodney, chomping on a piece of thick toast mumbled, "Why don't we stay here if the weather's going to get bad?"

"After all we've been through McKay, you're afraid of a little thunderstorm?" Sheppard taunted.

"We're on a flimsy boat, it's not like we're on Atlantis."

Carson scowled, "This is not a 'flimsy' boat, Rodney. She'll do fine in a storm."

Sheppard grinned, "Something tells me, someone gets seasick. Is that what's worrying you, Rodney?

Rodney opened his mouth to deny Sheppard's accusation, then slouched in his seat, "My grandfather lived by a huge recreational lake, and he loved to take Jeannie and me fishing; I hated it. Once, we were in this little tiny boat, and the weather was already nasty, the surface was really choppy. Every time, a bigger boat sped by rocking us Jeannie squealed with delight; she loved it. I just became more and more nauseated."

Carson snickered, "Don't worry, Rodney. I got a supply of Dramamine from the pharmacy when I stocked up on medical supplies. I was worried someone," Carson winked in Sheppard and Ronon's direction, his head tilting toward Rodney, "might get seasick since this is a pretty big body of water. Although, it certainly takes a wimpy stomach to get sick on a loch," Carson teased.

They all waited for a snarky comeback from Rodney, which didn't materialize. He only replied, "Yeah, well…that's me then."

Ronon, between forkfuls of eggs, said, "I get seasick."

Rodney's head snapped around toward the big Satedan, "You… you get seasick?"

Ronon downed a huge gulp of orange juice, then answered, "Sort of the same story, McKay. My mom's brother operated a fishing boat on the coast about a hundred demets from Sateda City. When I was about ten, my parents thought a summer with my uncle on his fishing boat would be good for me. I was sick for the first three days, before my uncle felt pity on me and gave me some medicine."

Carson stuttered, "He…he waited for three days to give you something to stop the nausea?"

Ronon shrugged, "He thought it would make a man of me."

Carson got up to get more coffee, muttering, "Barbaric," under his breath.

"So, you grow out of it, or do you still get motion sickness?" Sheppard asked.

"When I was running, I was trying to get away from a Wraith hunting party. I found a boat tied up on a river, decided to go down-river, then double back to the gate. It was winter and extremely cold; lots of rapids on the river, I started feeling sick. Haven't been in that situation since."

Sheppard thought back to some of the harrowing rides they'd taken in the jumper. "Well, I guess we should thank the Ancients for inventing very effective inertia dampeners." Rodney simply nodded in agreement.

Carson brought the coffee carafe over and poured more coffee for everyone. Once seated, he raised his coffee cup in a toast, "Might not be alcohol, but it'll do, laddies. "Here's to a fun, uneventful and _safe _stay on the loch." He nodded to Sheppard on the word safe. They raised their mugs in response.

Rodney said, "Loch? Really Carson, you're in the United States, call it a lake."

"Cheeky, I'll call it a lake when you say 'Zee' PM, not 'Zed' PM."

Rodney leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, "It is 'Zed' PM."

Before the two had a chance to continue their bickering, Sheppard interrupted, "Carson, this thing gassed up and ready to go?"

"Aye that she is, and as soon as we get this mess cleaned up, we'll get underway."

He started to rise when Ronon pushed him back into his seat. "You, finish your coffee; McKay and I will clean this up."

"Lad, I…," Carson got no further as Sheppard kicked him under the table. He sent a quick glance Sheppard's way, then continued, "Thanks, Ronon."

McKay appeared anything but happy, but helped clear the table. Sheppard and Carson watched, somewhat amused as Ronon began washing the dishes, telling Rodney to dry.

Quietly, Carson asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Not so bad, certainly not like yesterday."

"I still think that we may have gotten you out of the hospital a day or two too soon. You want to lie down as we travel to the dam?"

Sheppard frowned, "No… I do not want to lie down. You going to pilot her from here or from the flying bridge?"

"I'd rather take her out from the top deck, better vantage point of what's around us. Think you can make the climb up top?"

"Yeah, mostly because I figure you'll make Ronon carry me." Sheppard was grinning somewhat sarcastically.

"Cheeky but correct, Ronon will help you; that ladder is steep."

Carson jumped up and grabbed the nautical charts from the cupboard under the helm. As Ronon and Rodney finished cleaning up, the colonel and the doctor finished their coffee while they plotted a course to the dam.

~~ooOoo~~

An hour later, two employees of the houseboat rental company assisted Ronon in untying the houseboat from moorings and cast off. Carson, at the fly bridge helm, nudged the engines sending the seventy-foot houseboat into the protected marina basin, then through the man-made tire break and into open water.

Sheppard was sitting on the padded bench that surrounded the bow of the houseboat, soaking up the sun. After nearly a week in the hospital, feeling the sun on his face felt good, the first time he'd been truly warm, since being shot. He glanced over at Carson, who was sitting at the helm, with what appeared to be a permanent grin on his face. It had been a long time Sheppard thought, since Carson looked that happy.

Ronon climbed to the upper deck with a couple of bags of chips, cookies, and a bag of fruit, dumping everything on the bar behind the helm. An apple fell out of the bag and rolled next to McKay's computer, startling McKay, who nearly jumped from his seat.

"Hey, watch it; I'm working here."

Sheppard said, "What do you mean you're working? If you are working, put that pad away."

"Bite me, Sheppard."

"I'd rather bite that apple, Chewie, toss it over to me." Ronon picked the apple up, handed it to Sheppard, and joined him on the bench.

"McKay, what are you doing?"

McKay looked up, glowering at Sheppard, "Nothing…I am not doing anything." He turned the pad off and grabbed something to drink.

Carson looked around, "Bring a chair up here, and enjoy the view, Rodney."

Ronon asked, "Beckett, how fast does the boat go?"

"About eight to ten miles per hour, but I'm not pushing her; it's only about nine miles to the dam from the marina, so we have plenty of time to get there and then get to the cove we decided to anchor in last night."

Ronon had been gazing around at the stark scenery, "Why's the rock on the shore two colors?"

Rodney answered, "When the lake levels are low, the submerged rock dries out the minerals deposited on the surface causing the rock to appear white."

Carson chuckled, "A bathtub ring."

"Well, that's stupid," Rodney quipped.

"No, no, that's what they call it according to the guys on the dock, a bathtub ring."

Sheppard spotted Rodney's cell phone in the pocket his shirt. He was certain the scientist had been calling Atlantis regularly. "Rodney, you haven't told me what's happening on Atlantis, last time you said you talked to Radek was four days ago. I know you talked to him since then, so what's the scoop?"

"Not much to tell, the goons from Area 51 still have their grubby hands all over everything. Radek caught a couple of them cataloguing equipment to take back to their little hovels with them. He went ballistic on Dr. Gervers, Pervers, whatever his name is; the Marines had to separate them. Radek told me that General Landry issued orders that no equipment, artifacts, or anything the Area 51 goons didn't bring with them, would leave Atlantis."

"How much longer are they going to be there?"

"Too damn long, in my opinion, I know you keep telling me that Radek and Lee will keep them from messing stuff up, but I don't believe it. Those Area 51 guys are Neanderthals."

"Rodney, be nice," Carson admonished, then continued, "How's Sergeant Johnston doing?" As sooner as the words came out of his mouth, he slapped his forehead, "Bugger, I can't believe I did that."

Sheppard was on his feet, grabbing the railing to keep himself steady, "What happened to Johnston?"

"Now, laddie, don't get excited; he's gonna be fine. There was a little explosion in the biochemical lab, caused by one of the visiting scientists…."

"Neanderthals…," Rodney sniped.

Carson continued, "The sergeant was on guard duty, and he rushed in to rescue the people in the lab; a storage locker fell on him. He has a concussion and a broken leg, but he's gonna be fine. Everyone in the lab is okay."

Sheppard's tone was even, but the others heard the undercurrent of anger in his voice, "When were you going to tell me?"

"John, the accident happened two days after your surgery, and Johnston was in no danger. Jennifer's back, and I spoke to her; she assures me that the sergeant will be fine. To be honest laddie, I hadn't planned on telling you at all."

Sheppard took a deep breath, "I need to know when my people are hurt; don't keep anything like that from me again. Is he still on Atlantis?" Carson nodded, and Sheppard walked over to Rodney and put out his hand, "McKay, give me your phone."

McKay looked at Carson, who nodded, and the scientist passed over his phone to the irritated colonel. They waited as Sheppard connected to Atlantis, speaking first to Woolsey, then to Jennifer, and finally, for a few minutes to Sergeant Johnston.

Sheppard had sat down next to McKay while he was on the phone. When Sheppard ended the call and handed him back the phone, McKay said quietly, "You know, you were hurt worse than he was; I doubt he was expecting you to call."

"Johnston is under my command, and I am responsible for him. Besides, I like the big guy."

Rodney laughed, "Yeah, you and Ronon are about the only ones who aren't scared of him."

Sheppard chuckled, "Let's see, six-foot-five two hundred and seventy-five pounds of Marine SO…yeah…I'm scared of him."

They cruised in silence the rest of the trip to the dam, enjoying the scenery. Ronon was having fun waving at the passing boats after Carson explained the tradition to him. Sheppard had returned to sit on the padded bench on the bow, and Rodney had turned his pad back on, completely immersed in whatever he was doing.

About ninety minutes after they left the marina, the dam came into view. They couldn't approach very closely, but even from the lakeside view, the dam was imposing. The four huge water intake towers rose from the water like sentinels guarding a fortress.

Ronon was mesmerized, "Sheppard that thing is huge."

"Yeah, Chewie; wait until you see it from the other side. It's past huge, built over 70 years ago; an amazing undertaking."

They remained for while longer absorbing the breathtaking sight. Carson finally turned the houseboat around and headed for Hideaway Cove to anchor. The night before, he and Sheppard had decided that the cove offered them good harbor, protection from the storms, and was near Callville Bay. They could use the Boston Whaler Carson rented to go back and forth to the marina for supplies.

On the way, Carson explained to Ronon and Rodney what they needed to do to anchor the houseboat when they arrived. An hour later, as he piloted the houseboat into the cove, Sheppard and Ronon took positions on each side of the bow, while Carson nudged the large vessel against the shore. Leaving Sheppard at the helm, the others gathered the anchors and equipment and spent the next thirty minutes pounded anchors into the ground.

When the trio climbed back aboard, Sheppard broke out in laughter at Rodney, who was red-faced, sweaty, covered in sand. "Rodney, you okay?"

"Who the hell said this was a vacation? That's freaking hard work," he looked at his palm where a raw, reddened rope burn was evident.

Carson took Rodney's hand, making a clucking sound as he examined the injury, "Ah, laddie, how did this happen?"

"My hand was sweaty, and I slipped, tried to grab the rope, then fell." Carson led him to the sink and rinsed the blood off his hand, blotting the wound dry.

He motioned to Rodney toward the dining table, "Sit…I'm going to get my kit." As he walked out, he realized Sheppard was in the salon. "John, didn't I tell you to stay up top until Ronon was back on board to help you down?"

"Carson, stop; I'm fine. I took it slow, didn't have any trouble."

Carson stared at the colonel, then headed to his cabin muttering to himself.

After tending to Rodney's wounds, and having lunch, Carson declared it was time for fishing. Dragging out his tackle box and fishing rod, he asked, "Okay, who wants to go fishing?"

Sheppard piped up, "I'll go."

"No," Carson answered, "you are not climbing in and out of the boat. You are going to rest this afternoon, and before you asked, no…you cannot swim. Your wounds aren't healed enough yet."

Ronon, a mouth full of potato chips, mumbled, "I wanna swim."

"So it's settled, Ronon swims and stays with Sheppard, so Rodney, you are coming fishing with me."

"Ah…why me…I'll get sunburned."

"You can sit under the bimini top, out of the sun, but you are going fishing. Now, change into something cooler and let's go."

When Rodney started to complain again, he caught the look that Sheppard was giving him. He knew what that look meant, and he knew he was going fishing.

Sheppard decided he wanted to relax on the top deck. He managed to change into swim trunks, grabbed some graphic novels and with Ronon behind him, he climbed to the upper deck. Ronon then helped Carson cast off the fishing boat from its mooring alongside the houseboat. From the upper deck, Sheppard watched as Carson headed a bit further up into the cove before he dropped anchor, McKay slathering on sunscreen the entire way. Ronon busied himself sliding off the rear swim slide, enjoying the water. As the afternoon wore on, Sheppard fell asleep stretched out in a deck chair.

After he set the anchor, Carson had given Rodney a rod, baited his hook, and then gone to the front of the boat to drop his own line into the crystal-clear water. Only a few minutes passed before Rodney settled in the pilot's seat, under the canopy, the rod held loosely in his hands.

"Beckett, how long are we going to stay out here? It's hot, and I'm bored."

Beckett looked over his shoulder, "We have only been out here two hours; I've caught some trout for dinner. It's a beautiful day, clouds just beginning to roll in…just look at that sky."

"It's hot."

"It's summer, get over it. Now be quiet, you will scare off the fish. I want to catch a couple more so that we have enough fish for dinner…need lots of food to keep Ronon happy."

"He can have my dinner if that gets us back to the houseboat quicker."

Carson was about to answer when he got another bite and in a few minutes, he reeled in another good-sized trout. He baited his hook again, and dropped the line overboard.

Rodney was still holding his fishing rod lightly; when there was a slight tug on his line, he didn't react. A harder tug nearly pulled the rod from his hand, and he yelped, "Carson…I got something."

Carson had also just gotten a hit on his line, "Rodney, I'll be right there, let me get this fish in." Carson quickly brought his fish on board, and rushed to help Rodney, who was now struggling, leaning over the starboard gunwale between the metal railings.

He reached for Rodney's rod, intending on taking it from him but Rodney was leaning too far over the side. As Carson touched him, reaching around for the rod, the action startled Rodney, who jumped and started to fall overboard. He grabbed onto Carson's fishing vest, but his momentum took him over the side. Carson almost regained his footing, but couldn't get stable, and he fell into the water, Rodney's fishing rod still in his hand.

Onboard the houseboat, a loud yell, followed by another woke Sheppard with a start, "Wha…." He rose up to see Ronon rushing to the deck railing. The big man leaned on the railing and began to laugh.

Sheppard got up slowly, and joined him, "Ronon, what's going on?" Ronon pointed toward the Whaler, anchored not very far away. They could see two heads bobbing in the water.

"I got here just in time to see Beckett go over the side; it didn't appear intentional. McKay was already in the water."

Sheppard sighed deeply, "McKay's fault, no doubt. They seem okay; they're swimming toward the ladder. Oh, this is going to be good." He looked at Ronon and they both grinned broadly.

At the transom of the Whaler, Carson pulled the swim ladder down and climbed onboard. He put the rod down that he was still holding, and then looked over the stern to where Rodney was clinging on to the ladder.

"Well, come on, Rodney, climb aboard."

McKay was breathing hard, "A little help please…my hand hurts." He held up his now wet bandaged hand.

Carson dropped his head backward, then leaned over, grabbing Rodney's forearm, "If you pull me into the water again, I will not be happy."

Rodney, with some difficulty, climbed onboard. "What the hell were you doing, you startled me."

"Yes, I know…it's my fault. I think it's time we head back."

Rodney sat down on the bench, "It's about time."

Carson secured the fish he had caught before he fell overboard, then pulled up anchor, and turned the Whaler toward the houseboat.

"Oh, crap," Rodney moaned, noticing Sheppard and Ronon standing on the upper deck watching, "we are so never going to live this down."

~~ooOoo~~

Sunset was approaching and thick ominous looking clouds had moved in, dropping the temperature considerably. Carson cleaned the trout he caught, after he and Rodney had taken hot showers. The doctor/chef was now grilling the fish, and vegetable kabobs, hoping to beat the rain. Ronon was fussing about in the kitchen when Sheppard emerged from his cabin after taking a shower. McKay was curled up on one of the couches, his hand freshly bandaged, engrossed in his laptop.

Ronon turned around, "Hey, Sheppard; you okay?"

"Yeah, much better, what are you doing?"

He grinned, "Beckett's teaching me to cook. I'm doing the baked potatoes and the bread."

"Good job, Chewie, " he looked over at McKay. "So how's our diving champion?"

"Har dee har har…flyboy; it was an accident, Beckett surprised me."

"Rodney, the Whaler is the most stable, unsinkable boat out there and you fell off one."

"Bite me, I didn't want to go fishing anyhow," he retorted. He glanced at Sheppard; the colonel's face was passive, but his eyes were piercing. Rodney immediately realized what he had said.

"I know, John…I know. Each time I say that I realize how stupid I am. I should be thankful that he's here to go fishing with, I…I forget…I mean…he's here. I forget about that day…"

"It's okay; I forget too. I just think we need to remember that we got him back and not take anything for granted."

Carson came into the salon, "Dinner will be in about five minutes; how are those potatoes coming?"

"They are done and I put the bread in when you said, it should be done in a couple of minutes."

Carson patted Ronon on the back, and began to pour melted butter from a pan on the stove into two bowls and added spices. He retrieved a couple of lemons from the fridge and halving one, squeezed lemon into one of the bowls.

"Carson, what the hell are you doing…lemon? You're going to kill me."

"Relax, do ya think I'd try to kill you, Rodney. There are two bowls of butter for the fish, one with lemon and one without…I'm putting a little parsley into yours to make certain I don't get them mixed up. You're not allergic to parsley are ya?"

Sheppard had walked to the cupboard, and began to pull out plates "McKay, make yourself useful; help me set the table."

Reluctantly, McKay helped, placing the plates and silverware that Sheppard handed him on the table, then walked away.

"McKay, who taught you to set a table, you've got the silverware all wrong."

"Who are you, Martha Stewart?"

"Obviously, social skills were not in your curriculum," Sheppard fumed, as he corrected the silverware placement.

"Oh, bite me."

Carson giggled, "I think our resident scientist is getting fussy, he needs food."

"He needs something," Sheppard added sarcastically.

A few minutes later, Carson brought the fish and veggies inside, and they sat down to dinner. Through the open salon windows, the first rumble of thunder reached them.

After dinner, Ronon washed the dishes with Sheppard insisting on drying. Once they had everything put away, they decided to go on the upper deck to watch the incoming storm. It hadn't started raining yet, so they took four of the lounge chairs and put them on the open deck, next to the hot tub.

Ronon collected cold beers from the cooler, and handed them out, chuckling as Sheppard frowned at the O'Doul's he gave him.

"Carson, I'd like a real beer."

"Not yet, laddie; you've done really well today. You've only taken pills this morning and this afternoon, but you are not ready to be weaned off of them. Maybe tomorrow, we'll see if we can cut back, but only if you get a good nights sleep. I want you to take two more pills at bedtime.

"I also want to get in the hot tub."

"If your wound looks good tomorrow, I'll put some waterproof tape over the bandage, and you can get in for a while."

"Gee, thanks, Momma Carson."

"Cheeky."

They stayed on the deck for nearly two hours, chatting about their trip. Carson talked about opening some of the wine they got at the vineyard, when Sheppard could drink it, prompting Rodney to groan, remembering how drunk he and Carson had gotten. Just as the conversation got around to the Celine Dion concert, Carson reminiscing about the gorgeous, sexy blue dress Dion wore during her show, the first raindrops began to fall. Ronon sent the others inside while he secured the chairs in the storage bins, and threw the beer bottles into the trash bin. By the time, he came into the salon the rain was beginning in torrents.

Once Ronon joined them, Carson brought out the ice cream. They sat in the dimly lit salon, eating dessert and listening to the heavy rain pound on the houseboat. The almost constant low rumble of thunder, was accompanied at times by the lighting mimicking a strobe light, flashes of purple-white light brightening the salon.

Carson stood next to a window for a long time, prompting Sheppard to ask, "Penny for your thoughts, doc."

A flash of lighting illuminated Carson's face, revealing a slight smile. "I was just thinking about when I was a lad; I used to spend a few weeks during the summer with my uncle who had a summer house on Loch Fyne. He also had a houseboat and we'd go out for a few days at a time, just cruising up and down the loch. When my grandfather and father were alive, they'd go with us. My grandfather taught me to fish on one of those trips, and later, when I was older, about twelve, my uncle taught me to water-ski." He paused for a moment, but no one spoke, waiting for Carson to continue.

"The year before me dad died we were on the houseboat when an awful storm hit. The loch is a sea loch, open to the ocean. The water was very choppy; the boat was rocking back and forth, and I got scared. I guess I yelled out, and my dad came running into the salon where I was sleeping on a couch. He stayed with me the remainder of the night, calming me, telling me I needn't be worried. He told me "Mother Nature" was just kicking up her heels, having a wee bit of fun the only way she could." As a particularly bright lighting flash, followed immediately by loud clap of thunder, Carson remarked, "Looks like Mother Nature's having quite a wee party tonight."

Rodney spoke, "I remember being mesmerized by thunderstorms, wondering what caused them. I used to sneak out of the house to do 'scientific research' when I was eight or nine; my mother finally threatened to take away my chemistry set if I didn't stay inside."

Carson laughed, "So, now we know, Rodney didn't know when to come in out of the rain."

"I think he's gotten a little smarter than that, Carson. However, I grant you… he doesn't know the appropriate times to take a swim."

"Oh, you are so funny, fly boy"

Sheppard yawned, then answered, "I know…I am, aren't I?"

"John, you are getting tired, time to take your pills and go to bed."

"You know, what; I'm not going to argue with you this time. I am tired."

Within a half-hour, the men had retired to bed: Ronon, the last to turn in, as he made certain all the doors and windows were secure. Outside the storms didn't give any indication of letting up anytime soon. It wasn't long before all four were lulled to sleep by the thunder and the gentle rocking of the boat.

Sheppard snapped awake; uncertain what had awakened him, or how long he had slept. He had left his window open a tiny crack; he loved the sounds of storms and had fallen asleep quickly listening to the thunder and steady rain. He heard it again, a faint noise, different from the sounds of nature. He struggled up, and padded to the window, opening it wider, hoping he could hear the sound more clearly.

The rain was still very heavy, pounding against the boat. During the next bright lighting flash, he thought he caught something white and bright blue in the water. Then he heard the sound again, and this time, there was no doubt that it was a cry for help.

Sheppard rushed into the hall, yelling down the stairs for Ronon. He ran into the salon, to the larger windows, trying to spot where the sound was coming from. Ronon ran in, 9-mil in hand, sleepy and confused Rodney and Carson behind him.

Ronon rushed to his side, "Sheppard, what's happening?"

"I think there's someone in the water calling for help. I saw something white in the water toward the stern of the boat, and I'm pretty certain that I heard a cry for help."

Carson moved into action, "There's a spotlight on the bow. I'll shine it into the water; you see if you can see anything."

Within a couple of seconds, the bright light was shining across the water, revealed the keel and hull of a boat overturned in the water, a large hole in the hull. In the water, standing out in the bright spot light were four orange life jackets. Sheppard could make out two adults and two small children clinging to the hull.

"Ronon, we need to get them out of the water. Carson, radio the Park Rangers; Rodney, take the light and keep it on those people." He rushed out onto the front deck, pulling life jackets from the storage bin. He tossed jackets to Carson and Rodney, and was putting one on as he heard a splash. Ronon had jumped into the rough water from the upper deck, swimming toward the boat.

"Damn it, crazy bastard," Sheppard had swung a foot over the railing on the front deck, when Carson stopped him.

"No, I'm going…you stay here." Carson pushed him back, and jumped over the railing, wading into the water. Sheppard started over the railing, but Rodney pulled him back, "No, Sheppard; you can't."

Sheppard was breathing hard, "I'm going on the upper deck; I'll use the light up there to lead the rescue boats here." Before Rodney could stop him, Sheppard was gone.

The ladder was slippery from the rain, and Sheppard tripped as he stepped onto the deck. He reached out for the side of the hot tub but missed and slammed into the deck. The fall knocked the wind out of him, but he struggled up, his chest burning from the pain. He willed himself to the fly bridge where the spotlight was stored.

Once he had the light, Sheppard pointed it toward the overturned boat. Ronon was swimming toward shore. He had a woman in a lifesaving grip; she was clutching a small child. Carson had reached the boat, and was reaching for the man when the current caused by the heavy rain rushing off the rocks into the cove, broke the man's hold on the other child. The current quickly swept the boy out of his father and Carson's reach.

There was only one thing Sheppard could do, he propped the light up on the fly bridge and headed for the slide. He hit the cold water with a splash, and it took a second for him to orient himself. He yelled for the child, hoping he would get a response. In the water, sounds were more muffled; fortunately, a flash of lighting illuminated an orange object, the life jacket. Sheppard began to swim as hard as he could toward the small child.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sheppard, guided by the brief illumination from the lighting, reached the crying child. He grabbed the small boy and against the current driven by the rain, he swam for shore.

Raising his head when he took a breath, Sheppard could see the spotlight shining on the beach. The cold water was sapping what little strength he had; he wasn't certain he was going to make it to shore. As he weakened, he felt like he was going to pass out, but the faint sirens from the rescue boats kept him going, help was almost to them. Then he felt the child being pulled away from him. He was struggling, trying to keep from losing the child, when strong arms encircled him and a deep voice yelled in his ear.

"It's okay, Sheppard; Beckett's got the kid. I've got you."

Ronon, it was Ronon; Sheppard gave in to the darkness.

~~ooOoo~~

The houseboat was crowded. Several members of the Park Rangers rescue team were in the salon as the rescued family was being treated by the Ranger paramedics. Fortunately, they were not injured seriously. The father was badly bruised from trying to protect his family from debris washed into the water by the storm, and the mother and the small boy had swallowed quite a bit of water, but they were going to be fine. The older child, a little girl, was scared but unharmed.

Carson and another paramedic were in Sheppard's cabin, tending to the unconscious colonel. The paramedic had helped Beckett get Sheppard out of the wet clothes and under the bedcovers. A Park police officer had joined them, and Ronon and Rodney were waiting worriedly by the door.

The paramedic was taking Sheppard's blood pressure, "Blood pressure's great considering his condition, must be in excellent shape to have those readings after this ordeal."

The police officer asked, "You say he was shot a few days ago?"

"Yes, over a week ago."

"Dr. Beckett, I'll need to check out your story. Four men on a houseboat and one of them recovering from a gunshot wound, I think you can see why I would need to investigate."

Beckett answered, "Of course I do. You can contact Detective Hank Marshall of the Las Vegas Police Department; he'll fill you in on the details." Carson pulled open a dresser drawer and took out Sheppard's military ID, handing it to the officer, who had already seen the IDs of the others.

The officer took a couple of notes and handed the ID back to Carson, "I'm sorry to have to do this, just consider it routine, doctor. Hope he does okay, that was a pretty gutsy thing for him to do, considering his injury."

"Well, if you knew him, you'd know it's just who he is, officer." The officer nodded in reply and left.

The paramedic was tucking his equipment back into his bag. "You need anything else, doctor?"

"No, laddie, he just passed out from fatigue; once he gets some rest, he'll be alright."

"Well, you know where to find us if you need us. Take care, and great job guys; that family owes their lives to you."

Another of the Rangers stuck his head in the door, "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper would like to speak to you, if that's okay."

Carson nodded, and Rodney and Ronon stepped into Sheppard's cabin; the Coopers appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Cooper's voice was trembling, "We…we don't know how to thank you. I understand that the colonel is the one who heard my yell for help. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't. We were trying to outrun the storm and get back to the marina when the boat hit a rock. I managed to get us into the cove, and tried to get close to land so I could ground the boat, but took on too much water, and she sank, then overturned. You put yourselves in danger to save my family; I…" His voice broke and he couldn't continue.

Mrs. Cooper smiled, "We are so grateful to all of you; we would like to thank the colonel personally when he wakes up. We've left our number on the kitchen counter, please contact us, and let us know how he is doing."

"We will…I promise. Don't worry, Colonel Sheppard will be fine."

Ronon walked out behind the Coopers; but Rodney stopped at the doorway, "Carson, is he going to be okay?"

"Aye, Rodney…don't you know…the hero always survives."

As the rain continued, Carson watched out the window in Sheppard's cabin as the rescue boats pulled away with the Cooper family. He could smell coffee brewing and smiled; Ronon, no doubt, he was learning to make coffee as well. They were going to need it. It was going to be a long night watching over Sheppard once again.

_End of Road Trip: Part Four_

_Lake Mead, Gone Fishin' Days One and Two_

* * *

More Lake…uh…Loch…Mead days to come….soon. Thanks so much for you patience, I'll try not to let this much time pass before the next installment. Anxious to hear what you think about their Lake Mead adventure. Thanks for reading!


	7. Part 4 Gone Fishing Day 3 to  6

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: **_**Part Four Lake Mead Gone Fishing… Day 3 – 6 **_

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Five…Day 3 – 6 12, 945

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **When we left our guys, they had just rescued a family during a violent storm. Now they are dealing with the aftermath of the rescue and planning for the rest of their stay at Lake Mead. Now the question is will Carson get to fish, and can they avoid trouble for the rest of their trip? Enjoy!

* * *

**Road Trip**

_**Lake Mead Gone Fishin'….Day 3 – 6**_

_**Day 3 **_

_By stella_pegasi_

Rain had been falling steadily all night; in the distance, intermittent thunderstorms continued to rumble angrily. The massive houseboat rocked back and forth as the wind pushed lake water into the cove, meeting the rain running off the rocky hillsides. Carson Beckett sat in the dark in Sheppard's cabin, watching over his injured friend.

When Carson had insisted on sitting with Sheppard, Ronon brought a comfortable chair from the living room for him to sit in. The gentle swaying of the boat had lulled the doctor to sleep more than once, the thunder awakening him each time. Rodney and Ronon wanted to stay with them, but Carson eventually convinced the pair to get some sleep, although he assumed Ronon was wide-awake waiting to see if he needed anything.

Sheppard had been resting quietly; Carson suspected from sheer exhaustion. It was enough that he was recovering from a serious gunshot wound, but he had to overtax his body by jumping into the rough water, swimming against the current. Carson was well aware how exhausted he was from being in the water, and although Sheppard was in much better physical shape normally, he couldn't imagine how badly the colonel's heroics had set back his recovery.

Carson was returning from the galley with a mug of coffee from the pot Ronon made earlier, when he heard a soft groan. He turned on a small wall sconce and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"John, you awake, lad?"

"Ummm…I….yeah…awake," Sheppard's voice was raspy, feeble, ebbing with each word.

"Are you in pain, John, or thirsty?"

"T-thirsty…chest hurts…"

"Aye, laddie, I imagine it does; well, don't worry, I'll give you something for the pain."

The fact that Sheppard didn't argue about taking pain meds, told Carson he was either in considerable pain or too exhausted to care; most likely, a little of both. As he reached for his medical bag intending to get his stethoscope, Ronon appeared in the doorway; he had been awake as Carson imagined he was.

"Is he okay, doc?"

"I think so, says his chest is hurting, and he's thirsty. Could you get a glass of cool water for me?"

Ronon nodded and headed to the galley, while Carson checked Sheppard's respirations. He wasn't certain how much water his patient had breathed in while swimming. He was hoping that the chest pain was predominantly from muscle spasms.

By the time Ronon returned, Carson was slightly less concerned than he had been about the potential for Sheppard developing pneumonia. His lungs sounded clear; his heart rate was normal, and his blood pressure, although a bit high was satisfactory. The elevated blood pressure was probably a result of the pain.

"John, let's get you a drink of water," Sheppard made a sound similar to uh huh. Carson lifted his head, allowing him a few sips of water. "Okay, you need to rest; I'm going to give you shot to help the pain, then back to sleep with you laddie."

After he gave Sheppard the injection, Carson turned off the sconce, and the room was dark once again, flashes of lighting flitting about the sky the only illumination. As he settled in the chair, he could hear the sound of soft breathing, not coming from his patient but from the hallway.

Carson whispered to the big Satedan, "Ronon, go to bed; we're fine here."

"No, you might need me."

"Laddie, I always need you, but I'm gonna need you later this morning. I want to stay with John these first few hours just to make certain we don't have any surprises. But I'm gonna need to sleep, at some point. I would rather you be awake later to help Rodney keep an eye on him."

"I'm okay doc; I can do both."

Carson smiled to himself, thankful for the darkness so that Ronon wouldn't think he was laughing at him. He was smiling because these were the most devoted people he had ever worked with; but Rodney needed Ronon's quiet strength more than he did. He rose from the chair and walked to the doorway. A flash of lighting revealed Ronon sitting on the floor, his back to the far wall.

"Ronon, Rodney is very upset about John's injury. He believes this is his fault; that John wouldn't be hurt if he hadn't gotten into trouble, and once again, it was Colonel Sheppard to the rescue."

"Wasn't McKay's fault."

"No, it wasn't, but convincing that pig-headed fool is another story. I need you to be rested and alert while I sleep. Rodney will be nervous as long as John seems weak, and I'm afraid our friend is going to be weaker after tonight's events. Go to bed, I promise I will wake you up in a few hours. John's resting comfortably; he'll be fine, will just take some time. Now off with you, get some sleep."

Reluctantly, Ronon agreed and headed down the stairs to his cabin. Carson returned to his chair, and as he listened to Sheppard's even breathing, he realized they all were unsettled when Sheppard was hurt. With all the dangers they faced in Pegasus, Sheppard's presence was their salvation, stalwart, never becoming excited, keeping a level head in the direst of situations, ready to give his life to protect them all. When he wasn't able to provide that haven of security to them, it was understandable that they felt nervous. However, Sheppard needed strength from them now, and they were going to provide it; they owed their friend at least that and more. Sheppard always came to their rescue when they needed it, and they returned the favor by rescuing him from himself. Settling in the chair Carson wondered if, for once, they could simply have a few days of quiet.

~~ooOoo~~

Slowly, Sheppard stirred, first realizing he was warm, then becoming aware of the achy pain that seemed to exist in every joint and muscle, and burning pain in his chest. He opened his eyes to discover the room bathed in gray light. The gentle rocking of the houseboat seemed to be in-synch with the rain pelting the upper deck. A rustling sound caught his attention, and he turned his head to the source of the noise, Rodney.

The scientist, slouched in a chair next to the bed, moved restlessly as he slept. Despite the pain coursing through his body, Sheppard was amused; Rodney reminded him of a dog, running after prey in a dream. As he attempted to turn over on his side, he moaned and Rodney awoke with a lurch.

"What…," Rodney was breathing heavily, staring directly at him. It took the scientist a couple of seconds to realize that Sheppard was awake, but when he did, he yelled loudly for Carson.

"Crap…Rodney, no need to y-yell," Sheppard scrunched up his face, turning from the harsh sound. It was that pained face Carson saw when he entered the cabin.

As he reached for his medical kit, Carson asked, "Laddie, are you hurting that badly?"

Sheppard relaxed his face, "No…Rodney's yelling is worse than the pain; I think he broke my eardrum."

Carson frowned at Rodney, "Would you go get John some water please?"

"Sorry…I didn't mean to yell; I was just surprised he was awake." Rodney rushed out of the room, nearly running over Ronon.

Sheppard sighed, "What time is it?"

"It's a little past 1500 hours; you've slept for a long time. Now lie still, I want to check your vitals, and your wound." Sheppard complied and after examining him, Carson sat back, smiling. "Well, your wound has healed enough that nothing tore during your little swim; and your lungs remain clear. I think you simply need rest and pain management."

"That family…they okay?"

"Yes, they're fine, and extremely grateful that you heard their yells for help. Honestly, I'm not certain they would have survived if you hadn't. The storms worsened once the rescue boats left; that family was in real danger of dying."

Rodney had returned with a glass of water, which Carson took from him, "Here, John, a few sips of water, then I'll give you a shot for that pain." He helped Sheppard drink a bit, then reached for a syringe and vial.

"No, just…take the edge off, I don't wanna sleep anymore; however, I would like to go to the bathroom."

"Okay," Carson said, and began to pull the covers away from him; it was then Sheppard realized he was naked. The colonel grabbed the bedcovers from Carson's grip, "Hey; I'm naked, get me some pants."

Rodney grunted, "Well it's not like we all haven't seen you naked."

Sheppard felt heat flush across his face, suspecting his face was turning crimson, "Maybe so, but I'm not usually aware of it. I'm usually unconscious, and in the infirmary. I am not unconscious now…pants."

Carson snickered, as he handed a pair of track pants to Sheppard, "Well, I'm your doctor so seeing you naked is within my purview." Turning to the others, "Out, let our shy colonel dress without an audience."

After helping Sheppard get the track pants on, Carson called Ronon to assist the grumpy colonel across the hall to the bathroom. Before he came out, Carson passed a shirt to Ronon and then told him to help Sheppard into the salon.

After settling on one of the couches; Sheppard looked out the salon windows; the rain was still falling heavily, but the winds were calmer than last night. Rodney brought him a cup of coffee and Carson a glass of water and two pills. Frowning, Sheppard muttered, "I'm not an invalid; you don't have to wait on me."

"Quiet," Carson admonished, "Now what can I fix you to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Not the right answer, laddie; you will eat something. How 'bout a steak sandwich, there was some steak leftover."

Sheppard knew he might as well give in; the good doctor would not stop, "All right, 'Momma Carson,' I'll eat."

Carson fixed a plate with a sandwich of thin sliced sirloin piled on a whole-grain bun, a little horseradish mayo, chips, and watermelon, then put it in front of Sheppard.

"I said I'd eat, but not this much."

"Hush, eat what you can."

Ronon and Rodney were both snacking while Sheppard ate, a bit more heartily than he had thought he would. He looked over at Carson, who was fidgeting in the kitchen. "Hey, doc, this sandwich is really good."

Before Carson could answer, they felt a bump against the houseboat. Ronon immediately pulled a 9-mil from under the couch cushion where he was sitting, as Rodney looked out the window on the starboard side of the boat.

"It's a couple of Park Rangers."

Sheppard spoke quietly but sternly, "Ronon, put that gun away now." Ronon quickly slid the gun back under the cushion and sat down on it.

The Park Rangers hopped up onto the front deck of the houseboat from the bow of their boat, which they had tied off to the railing. Rodney opened the door to let them in.

One was a Park Police officer, who had been on scene the night before. He spoke, "The weather let up a bit so we thought we'd come out and check on you." He turned to Sheppard, "Colonel, good to see you awake; you were pretty out of it last night. That was some rescue you guys pulled off, it's no wonder you were wiped out after what you'd already been through." He shook Sheppard's hand, followed by the other Ranger.

"Rangers, thanks; how's the family doing?"

"Took 'em to the hospital in Vegas and had 'em checked over; they're fine, mostly scrapes and bruises. A lodge employee drove over early this morning and brought 'em back to Callville Bay. They're at the lodge now, planning on going home in a couple of days."

Carson smiled, "That's good to hear; they're a nice family."

The Ranger nodded, "Yeah they are; I also wanted to let you now that I spoke with Detective Marshall of the LVPD. He confirmed you were involved in the situation at Caesars and said that if you guys needed anything to contact him. He also mentioned that you all stopped a bunch of bikers over in Bakersfield. You've been busy for a group of guys on vacation."

"Aye, lad; it seems we've been in the wrong places at the wrong times in our travels. Then we come to the loch, and it happens again; only this time, I like to think we were in the right place at the right time."

The Ranger appeared puzzled, "Loch?"

Sheppard chuckled, "Lake…he's Scottish…don't mind him."

Rodney harrumphed, "Why does he get by with saying weird things, and I don't?"

When the Ranger looked confused again, Sheppard laughed, "He's Canadian."

The Rangers looked at each other and nodded, as if they completely understood.

"Would either of you like some coffee or something?" Carson asked of the Rangers.

The Rangers refused, "Thanks, doctor, but we just wanted to be certain you guys were okay and let you know about the Coopers."

After the Rangers departed, the four friends settled in the salon, listening to the rain, and watching satellite television through bouts of rain fade. Soon, all four were asleep; the effects of the last night had worn all of them down.

~~ooOoo~~

Ronon woke first. Quietly, the Satedan slipped out onto the front deck of the houseboat, gazing up the rock face rising up above the narrow beach. Heavy rain was still falling, and the sky was darkening. He was concerned about the effect the constant rain was having on the anchors. Scanning the anchor lines, he was relieved to find the ropes were taut but holding under the sway of the boat and the water streaming down the rock.

Returning inside, he noticed how chilly it was in salon. Carson and Rodney appeared comfortable, but Sheppard lay on the couch, curled-up, as though he was cold. Ronon knew the colonel got cold easily, so he retrieved a blanket from Carson's room and threw it over Sheppard. Then he made coffee and sat down at the table to wait for his friends to awaken. It didn't surprise Ronon that Rodney woke up first, the aroma of coffee too alluring to the scientist.

Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, Rodney stumbled to the galley, where he poured a cup of coffee, taking a sip of the steaming hot brew. He turned in Ronon's direction, "You make this?" Ronon nodded. "Pretty good coffee, Conan; much better than that rotgut crap Zelenka makes."

Rodney grabbed a package of Oreo cookies lying on the counter and sat down at the table, prying the cookies apart he scraped off the white filling, then scarfed down the cookies separately. Ronon grabbed two cookies and ate them whole.

"You truly do not know how to enjoy these do you…Jeannie ate hers the way you do, all together. So much more fun to eat the components one at a time."

"McKay, you have some really weird habits on your world."

"Well, you seem to be enjoying it here."

Ronon thought for a minute, before he replied, "I like it here; it reminds me of Sateda."

Rodney, scraping the filling off another Oreo, mumbled, "How so?"

"We had cities, lakes, boats, cars…well, transports…they all looked the same." He sighed, "I think we would have developed to be more like Earth if we'd had a chance."

"Not so certain that would have been a good thing."

Rodney realized as soon as he closed his mouth that he had been insensitive, if Sheppard was awake, he would have let him know. However, the steely look on Ronon's face was enough to tell him he had said the wrong thing. "Sorry, I didn't mean that it was a good thing Sateda didn't have the opportunity to survive. I meant that I'm not so certain Earth is such a great role model. Sure, we have all these luxuries and all this technical stuff, but we still have war, racism, and greed. I'm not convinced how civilized we really are; some times I think that we are too much like the Alterans. The Ancients were arrogant and so self-assured they couldn't recognize, or wouldn't admit, when they were wrong; Earth is a lot like that."

"You think that Earth is really that bad?"

"I…," Rodney sighed, "No, not really. I mean considering what you, and Teyla…," he hesitated as he said Teyla's name, "and others in the Pegasus galaxy have gone through, not to mention what the people affected by the Gou'ld and the Ori have gone through in this galaxy. We haven't gone through much at all."

Ronon looked knowingly at Rodney, "Yeah…McKay…I miss her, too."

"Miss who?"

Rodney, startled, turned toward the voice, "Oh, Carson's gonna kill me, I was talking too loud."

"No, didn't hear you; woke up on my own…," Sheppard threw the blanket off and pushed himself up. He was very wobbly and Ronon jumped up to help him.

Sheppard raised his hand, "Stay there, Chewie; I'm going to the bathroom all by myself…no arguments."

Neither Rodney nor Ronon moved; they both recognized the tone in Sheppard's voice. He didn't want their help.

The two friends waited as Sheppard first went to the bathroom, then across the hall to his cabin. When he came out, he was wearing a hoodie and had slipped on his sneakers. Moving slowly, he stopped in the galley, got a mug of coffee, then returned to the couch.

"Proud of yourself, laddie?" Carson sat up in the chair he'd been napping in, an annoyed expression on his face.

Sheppard mimicked Carson's annoyed face, "I'm fine; I made it there and back without any trouble. Even got a cup of coffee for myself." Sheppard was hoping Carson didn't notice that his hand was trembling; the effort had sapped his meager energy.

Carson stood up, "It's after 1900 hours, I think dinner is in order. How does something Italian sound? I was hoping for more fish tonight but since there was no fishing today, I think we'll have salad, spaghetti and meatballs, along with a loaf…" looking at Ronon, he grinned, "make that two loaves of garlic bread. Ronon, let's cook."

"I can help," Sheppard said, causing Carson to whirl around, hands-on-hips.

"Colonel, you sit there and be quiet." He turned to Rodney, "You can set the table in a bit."

About forty minutes later, the four friends sat down to eat, all of them hungrier than they imagined. Sheppard watched as Ronon dived in for seconds. He grinned at Carson, "Hey, doc, not certain you made enough spaghetti?" He jerked his head toward Ronon.

Carson laughed, pointing to Rodney's who was taking his third piece of garlic bread, "I'm beginning to think I might not have."

Ronon grinned, "The spaghetti's good."

Rodney attempted to reply with a mouthful of bread, but his words were garbled, causing everyone else to laugh, Rodney eventually joining in.

After dinner, Ronon and Rodney, who didn't need prodding, washed dishes while Sheppard and Carson watched a bit of cable news. It was still drizzling, but the thunderstorms had passed as the friends settled in, watching television. Realizing the events of the past twenty-four hours had taken a toll on all of them, they turned in early.

Carson woke when he heard a noise in the hallway; he glanced at his watch; it was 0418 hours. Suspecting that Sheppard was making a bathroom run, he waited for the colonel's return. After a few minutes, he heard the bathroom door open, but instead of hearing Sheppard's bedroom door close, he heard the telltale squeak of the door leading to the tiny back platform and the upper deck. Sighing, he got up, threw on a pair of pants, shoes, and grabbed a sweatshirt; time to check on his friend.

The rain had stopped, and the sky was beginning to clear. Splotches of glittering stars peeked through the dark clouds that remained. Carson stepped up on the deck; the only light from the soft glow cast by the tube lights that encircled the railing. He was slowly making his way toward the bar area when a deep voice interrupted the silence.

"Checking up on me, doc?"

"You keep this up, and I'll tie a bell around your neck."

"Go back to bed, Carson; I'm fine."

"I'm not sleepy anymore, I'll stay."

"Fine, as long as you don't ask me how I'm feeling."

Carson pulled another deck chair from storage and sat it close to Sheppard's, "So I won't ask, you can just tell me."

Sheppard laughed, "You are a cheeky bastard, aren't you."

"That's my line, Colonel Sheppard; besides you should remember the pecking order around here. You injured; me in charge."

"And I thought McKay was the only person with delusions of grandeur."

Sheppard sighed as Carson chuckled, and continued, "To keep you from pestering me, I actually feel a bit better. I slept pretty hard yesterday; who knows maybe that swim stretched out the kinks."

"I hardly think so, John. I just think you finally got a long bout of rest." He noticed Sheppard rubbing his chest, "Your chest hurting?"

"Um…don't miss much do you; yep, it hurts, mostly from the staples, when the hell can you take them out?"

"I checked your wound yesterday. It's been over ten days since you were shot, I might consider taking them out tomorrow…uh today; we'll see."

"Good, I'm tired of this shit."

"Well, laddie, I will say this, trouble does seem to follow us."

"I was thinking it's just me," Sheppard scoffed.

"There is no arguing that you are a trouble magnet, Colonel John Sheppard. I don't think I've ever had a patient, who required me to ask which volume number we are on when I pull your medical charts. However, let's see, our little group consists of Rodney, who we know can get into trouble just by opening his mouth, Ronon, who wades into trouble without thinking. Then there's me, I seem to attract the absolute worst of the bad guys." Carson took a deep breath, "At least the other Carson did; I seem to have avoided that problem."

Sheppard hid the sharp intake of breath that hit him; Carson rarely talked about what had happened to him at Michael's hand. He also knew that he, Rodney, and Ronon were too chicken to bring it up; they all assumed Teyla had taken care of dealing with Carson's emotional needs. His voice was somewhat shaky, but he decided to ask.

"Uh…Carson, how…how…," Sheppard was spared from continuing, when Carson finished his question.

"How am I dealing with being a clone? I'm dealing with it just fine, laddie; take my medication everyday, have regular checkups. Things are pretty much back to normal, as far as normal goes."

"You know we don't really think about it much; I mean it's like you were never gone."

"Aye, I know…except I have memories of nearly two years of Michael, and you have memories of my death, neither very pleasant. It's much easier to put it all behind us."

"Well, I'm certainly not one to talk; I've been doing that all my life." Sheppard got up, turned on a light over the bar area and opened one of the ice chests. "Damn, these chests are good, still some cold beer and ice in here." He grabbed a couple, flipped the light off, and returned to the lounge chair.

"Here," Sheppard handed a beer to Carson.

"Tell me you have an O'Doul's, John."

"I have an O'Doul's, in a Budweiser bottle," before Carson could complain he continued, "Don't sweat it. It's been five hours since I took any pain pills; I can hold off for a while. I need a real beer."

"I suppose if anyone deserves it, you do."

Sheppard took a long swig of the cold beer, "Ummm…now that hits the spot." He took another drink, then asked, "Are you really able to put what happened behind you?"

"Do you remember that nice restaurant we went to after seeing Celine Dion?"

"Yeah, the food was really good, nice place."

"You teased me about turtle soup, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I teased you about turtles making good soup after you went on about your 'wee turtles' on the return trip…." Sheppard stopped, "Oh crap, that wasn't you." He dropped his head against the chair, "I can't believe I didn't…sorry, Carson."

"No, laddie, don't say you're sorry. It's when things like that happen that I realize that life has gone on for me and that all of you accept me back as if I were the real Carson Beckett."

"You are the real Carson Beckett."

Beckett chuckled, "Aye, laddie; at least, I'm the only one here. Sometimes when you talk about the things that happened during that time, I can deal with it, because all of you spent so much time trying to fill me in on even the smallest details of those last few months before…before the explosion. It's not having a memory of Elizabeth's loss that causes me the most difficulty. Even with all the retelling of those events, well, I haven't been able to come to terms with that yet."

"Hell, Carson, I was there, and I still can't come to terms with her loss. Fact is that we have been through so much, seen so much, that it's almost overwhelming; we have to compartmentalize and move on."

"John, how do you do it? How do you deal with the responsibility of all those souls on Atlantis? You may have broad shoulders, but that's a heavy burden."

Sheppard was reluctant to answer, but he felt he owed Carson Beckett the respect of doing so. "If I didn't tell you that it scares the crap out of me every day I'd be lying to you. After my mother died, my dad didn't want anything to do with me. Miss Gilly's always been convinced that he couldn't bear to look at me because I looked just like my mother, and he was devastated by her death. For whatever reason, I never felt good enough, and I rebelled against him and every other authority figure in my life. Then I met General O'Neill, then you, and found out this little secret that the Air Force had been keeping. But I still thought I was a failure, that first year on Atlantis, well, killing your commanding officer is frowned upon."

"John, you have proven yourself time and time again to be an excellent commander. You should be proud; we are proud of you."

Sheppard felt his face flush with heat, thankful Carson could barely see him. "Never been able to see myself that way; spent too many years being told I was a failure. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm a good pilot; I'm not stupid, and that I've been lucky. I also have an exceptional team around me. Hard not to be good when you guys, Lorne, Woolsey, all the others, have my back."

"Yeah, there's a surprise, who knew Woolsey would be such a good fit for Atlantis? I was shocked to find him there when I came out of stasis. Someone from the IOA in command, I thought we were doomed."

"I thought so as well. He's surprised me, but Woolsey's a smart man, Carson, and a fair man. Smart enough to realize that we may try to apply the rules, as we know them, but those rules didn't include dealing with the Wraith, the Ori, the Gou'ld…, or Michael. It didn't take long for Woolsey to understand what has to be done." Sheppard sighed deeply, once again rubbing his chest.

"Getting tired, lad?"

Sheppard didn't answer immediately, reluctant to tell Carson the truth, finally he spoke, "Yeah that burst of energy didn't last long."

"Let's get you back to your cabin. The weather reports said that tomorrow would be sunny and hot; a good day for fishing."

_**Day Four**_

Carson had been right, as Sheppard opened his eyes, he saw that the sun was shining brightly through the window in his cabin. He was comfortable lying in the queen-sized bed, although the mattress was a bit softer than he liked, but he enjoyed the cocoon-like feeling of sinking into the softness. Daring to stretch, he felt the stiffness in his arms and legs as his muscles protested the movement.

Sheppard ventured to take a deep breath, anticipating the pain, and he wasn't disappointed; pain radiated from the location of the bullet wound. He took some solace in the fact that the pain was less intense than it had been. There might be a possibility that he could salvage this vacation yet.

He threw back the covers and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed, chuckling as he realized he was dressed for once. He remembered saying good night to Carson, then falling into the bed, not bothering with the blanket. Someone had covered him up at some point, most likely the good doctor. Sheppard shook his head; he had invited Carson to join them because he was their friend, it was just lucky he was also a doctor. They seemed to need one wherever they went.

He slipped on his sneakers and headed for the salon after a pit stop. He found Rodney curled up on one of the couches, immersed in his laptop. Sheppard entered the salon in stealth mode, standing only a couple of feet from the distracted scientist when he spoke.

"Rodney, you working again?"

McKay yelped, nearly dropping his laptop as he jumped. When he recovered, he replied, sputtering, "What the…what…that was uncalled for. You could have made a tiny bit of noise instead of scaring the hell out of me." He sat up, "When did you get up?"

Sheppard walked over to the galley and poured a cup of coffee, "Just now." He looked at his watch, "Damn it's 1000 hours…I can't believe I slept that long. Where are Carson and Ronon?"

"Carson wanted to go fishing, so he and Ronon left around 0700, said they'd be back around noon. Carson left you pain pills on the table, said they wouldn't make you drowsy, and that I was to make you take them. Also, there are doughnuts on the table if you're hungry."

Grabbing a couple of doughnuts, Sheppard stared at the pills lying on a napkin next to the doughnut box. Hesitating, then deciding it was better to take them, mostly because Rodney would whine all morning if he didn't, he grabbed the pills and headed for the other couch, snatching the remote control on the way.

He took the pills, then a big bite from a doughnut before he asked, mumbling a bit, "Rodney, what are you working on? That's not Atlantis stuff, is it?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full. No, it's not…just some stuff."

"Some 'stuff', that's descriptive coming from a Mensa member."

"Oh, bite me, Sheppard."

"You're in a great mood today, someone piss you off?" Then it dawned on Sheppard, "You spoke to Radek this morning, didn't you?"

Rodney looked over at him, frowning, "Yes…I spoke to Radek."

"And…?" When Rodney didn't answer, Sheppard added, "Don't make me threaten you to get it out of you, what's wrong?"

"Nothing…nothing really, it's just, Radek said that the Area 51 guys have requested more time on Atlantis. They are attempting to determine how to retro engineer the stardrive and they want more time to study it."

"Well, we aren't going anywhere anytime soon, so what's the harm in letting them look at the stardrive a bit longer. Some of those guys on the 51 team are rocket scientists, literally, they might be able to figure out how it works."

The higher pitch in Rodney's voice revealed his exasperation, "_We_ know how it works; the question is where we get the power to make it work. Atlantis stardrive is a lot more powerful than the Asgard drive. First, the drive on Atlantis is pushing a whole lot more weight, and second, the power source, the Zed PM, is much more powerful than the Asgard engines. I just don't want them messing where they don't understand. Those guys are idiots."

"They're our idiots, Rodney; let them do their jobs." Sheppard turned on the TV and found a rerun of CSI, "Put the laptop down and relax, watch this show with me."

About thirty minutes later, Sheppard was regretting that invitation. Rodney had been relentlessly trashing the forensic science. Finally, Sheppard had enough, "Rodney, shut up and enjoy the show…stop trying to analyze everything. Can't you just suspend reality for a while and enjoy something? Just stop criticizing and watch Marg Helgenberger, the redhead, she more fun than the story."

He wasn't certain if Rodney had taken his advice, but at least there were no more critiques coming from his companion. They were almost through another episode when they heard the sound of a boat motor approaching. Rodney jumped up and looked out the window. "It's Carson and Ronon."

A few minutes later they felt a bump as Carson nudged the Whaler against the houseboat's hull. He and Ronon came into the cabin, both slightly sunburned but grinning. Carson was holding a couple of large white paper bags, and Ronon was carrying a cooler.

Carson was excited, "We caught a lot of trout this morning, so we went up to the marina where we cleaned the fish at one of the cleaning stations. We are going to have a feast tonight." As Ronon pulled out plastic bags full of fish fillets and put them in the refrigerator, Carson began pulling wrapped sandwiches from the white bags, as the aroma of grilled hamburgers floated throughout the salon.

"The restaurant at the marina was grilling burgers outside today. There's a fishing tournament starting tomorrow, so all these people are arriving; it's really getting festive at the dock. Come on, let's eat; I'm famished and I know Ronon is, although he ate a hamburger on the way back here."

Carson piled several burgers on one platter, along with fresh-grilled corn-on-the-cobs on another, and a couple of large paper boats of fries in the center of the table. Ronon grabbed beers for everyone, an O'Doul's for Sheppard.

Sheppard sat down at the table, frowning at his beer, "Quite the spread, Carson, looks good."

"Yeah, the aroma of all those burger's cooking was too much; had to have some. When did you get up, laddie?"

"Around 10 and before you ask, I took the pills, and I feel better," he flashed a cheeky grin at Carson, who flashed a cheeky grin back at the colonel.

They dove into the delicious burgers without talking for several minutes. Ronon had consumed two burgers, along with pile of fries, and two corn-on-the-cobs before he spoke. Grinning he said, "Now that's good food."

Carson feigned indignation and hurt, "You like _this_ food; I suppose that means that you don't like my cooking."

Ronon appeared stunned, "No…no…I like your cooking, I didn't mean…," before he could continue, Carson started laughing, then Sheppard and Rodney joined in.

Ronon began to laugh when he realized that Carson was teasing him.

"Ah, laddie, I couldn't resist. I also agree with you; I love these burgers…nothing better than that char-grilled taste."

Sheppard, between bites of burger, asked, "So, there's a fishing tournament?" Carson nodded, and Sheppard smiled, "Why don't you enter?"

"I…I…," he stopped and beaming said, "you're right I should enter; it would be fun."

"You came here to fish, so you should fish. Have you ever entered a tournament before?"

"Oh, as a lad on a lark…nothing as serious as I know these bass anglers are. They spend thousands of dollars on equipment, and live and breathe this sport; lots of money to make if someone is good at it, though. I have a feeling that I'll get laughed out at with my puny tackle, but it'll still be fun."

Sheppard smiled, "Go for it, Carson."

"I'll head back to the marina this afternoon and enter. However, I want to check your incision before I go."

After finishing lunch, Carson took a shower, changed into his non-fishing clothes, and was examining Sheppard's wound before he left for the marina.

"John, I think the staples need to stay in at least another day or two. I would feel more comfortable about you not tearing things if we wait." Seeing the look on Sheppard's face, he said, "Look, I know you want them out, but I want you well-healed. However, I will allow you to get in the hot tub if you want; I think your muscles would benefit from a good soaking."

"Thanks, I've really wanted to get in that hot tub."

"But only if Ronon is with you, and I don't want you to stay in too long; you could get dizzy. I went up before I took a shower and turned it on, so the water should have heated up by now. Cover your incision with this waterproof bandage when you get in, then dry off as soon as you are out and apply this antibiotic cream over the area. Probably not necessary, but it'll make me feel better."

"I'll do it; I promise," Sheppard was putting his shirt back on.

"Okay, then…I'll be back in probably about two hours."

"Wait, two things, take Rodney with you, he's been moping around here all day after he spoke to Radek this morning. He needs a change of scenery."

"Any problems on Atlantis?"

"No, but you know Rodney, nothing short of being there makes him happy."

"He's gonna whine, but I'll take him."

Carson was about to open the cabin door when Sheppard grabbed his arm, "Hang on."

Sheppard opened the top drawer of the dresser, taking out his billfold. He pulled out the Centurion card and handed it to Carson. "Take this and go to the tackle shop and get a good rod and reel and all the stuff that you need for the tournament."

"John, I can pay for my own things."

"I know that; however, that equipment is not cheap. If you use this card, they aren't likely to call your card company, and find out that you haven't used it in several years. Besides, I put the houseboat rental on this card, so if they have any questions, tell them check with the rental company; they know you. We'll settle up the bill later."

"Okay, that makes sense; I'll do that."

~~ooOoo~~

Carson had been correct, Rodney had whined about going to the Marina with him, and had been quite sullen, as they took the boat out of the cove. Once they were in the open water of the lake, Carson took pity on him, and turned the Whaler over to Rodney. As they approached the breakwater opening into the marina, Rodney appeared shocked that Carson allowed him to take the boat into the marina basin and dock the craft.

Carson registered for the amateur division of the tournament, after he picked up his packet of tournament rules and a gift bag, he found Rodney. The scientist was sitting on a bench outside the pro shop, looking totally lost.

"Carson, you really enjoy this? These people are…"

"These people are from all walks of life, Rodney. While I was waiting to register, I met three guys, one's a psychiatrist, one a manager of a trucking company, one an accountant; all walks of life. This is a hobby, a passion, something fun, a diversion from the lives we all lead. Some of these other guys are professional bass fishermen, who make their living doing these tournaments; they are the hardcore."

"Seems trivial way to spend your life if you ask me," Rodney crossed his arms, glowering.

"That's only because you don't have a hobby."

"I have hobbies…." He paused, as though he was groping for an answer, "I like to race model cars."

"That's only after John bought a couple and asked you if you wanted to race one."

Rodney frowned, "I like it."

"Yeah, I know you do…once you realized how much fun it was. But I suspect you were reluctant and only joined John because he cajoled you into trying. See what happens when you open your mind to new things?"

"He doesn't know I modified mine."

"He still beats you though, doesn't he?"

Rodney sighed, "Yeah."

"Come on, let's go inside, time to get some new gear."

Carson felt like a kid in a candy shop, due to the tournament the pro shop brought in new inventory of rods and reels, and the fisherman in the Scottish doctor took over. While he was selecting the new gear, Rodney was shopping around the store. By the time Cason finished, Rodney was standing at the counter, a large shopping bag in hand.

"What in the world did you find in here to buy?"

Rodney smirked, "Stuff."

Shaking his head, Carson began to check out, then handed Sheppard's credit card to the clerk, quietly explaining the situation. The tackle shop manager remembered Carson from the day he and Ronon came down to check out the boat, and told the clerk everything was fine. As the clerk was wrapping everything up, a couple of guys who were in the shop came over to Carson and Rodney. The shorter of the two men spoke first.

"Hey, man, that's some good equipment you got there; you fishing in the tournament?"

Carson smiled, "Only in the amateur division."

The other man, who was quite tall and burly, said, "Some pretty fancy equipment for an amateur; Shimano and Daiwa's best reels and you got the best American Rodsmiths and Cabela rods you can get. Nice rigs."

"Every little advantage helps, even for an amateur, laddies."

The shorter man, who was of much slighter build than his companion, asked Rodney, "You fishing?"

Rodney shook his head no, "Not my thing."

"Not a sportsman I take it," the shorter of the two men asked him. Rodney simply shook his head no, again.

The tall man smacked Carson on the back, hard enough to cause Carson to stumble, "Good luck, man."

The two strangers left the shop, and within a few minutes, Carson and Rodney left as well. They stopped at the small grocery store to get more beer and snacks along with more bacon and eggs. When Carson bought six dozen eggs, Rodney was curious and asked, why so many eggs. Carson laughing replied because he underestimated the number of eggs Ronon could consume in one meal. A grocery clerk offered to help them carry everything to the Whaler, and once loaded the two Atlantians headed for the houseboat.

~~ooOoo~~

John Sheppard was a happy man. After a long soak in the hot tub, he stretched out on a lounge chair soaking up the sun, iPod buds in his ears, and a fake beer on the deck next to him. Ronon had gone swimming in the lake, and was now lying in a chair next to him, asleep.

Sheppard was warm and drowsy, as he drifted off, he thought, "Now this is a vacation."

The sound of a boat motor woke both Sheppard and Ronon, and Ronon went down to the main deck to help Carson and Rodney aboard with their parcels. Once they put the food away, the three joined Sheppard on the upper deck.

"Well, you look comfy, laddie."

"First time I've been really warm, since we arrived. The hot tub was wonderful, feel much better. Now what did you buy?"

Carson showed off all of his new gear, as he began to put everything together. Sheppard, who knew a little about fishing, was impressed with the equipment.

"Some nice reels here; you should do well tomorrow."

"I'll at least have fun, whether I catch any fish or not." He laid down one of the rods, picking up one of the others. "By the way, I rented another boat for tomorrow; I didn't want you guys to be without a boat while I was out."

"Good thinking."

"They didn't have a big Whaler, so I'll take this one tomorrow. They assigned me a partner, and I told him I'd supply the boat. Rodney can go over with me and bring the other one back."

McKay mumbled, "What time do you have to check in? Didn't I hear that guy say something about 6:30 am?" Carson confirmed the time, and Rodney, whined, "That's damn early."

"Rodney, you make your scientists meet with you every morning at 0600 hours, not going to hurt you to get up and take Carson over in the morning."

Rodney made a face at Sheppard's remark, "That's work but this…yeah; I'll go with him in the morning."

Sheppard noticed the bag Rodney had sat behind his chair, "What'd you buy, Rodney; something for Madison?"

Sheepishly, he opened the bag, "I just got a few things." He pulled out a straw lifeguard hat with fishing lures attached and tossed it to Ronon; next, a blue visor that he threw to Sheppard, and he gave sport wristbands to both men. He then pulled out a fishing vest, handing it to Carson.

"Rodney, this is the vest I looked at and decided not to buy. This is a really nice one, but I have one."

"The clerk said this one would be cooler since its mesh, so I got it for you. It's hot out here."

Carson smiled, "Thanks, Rodney...this is really nice."

"Thanks for the visor, marine camo of another sort, a fish camo pattern with added sunshield…cool." Sheppard slipped on the visor and the wristband.

"Yeah, well I figured that you wouldn't want a hat, because it would mess up your hair."

Ronon put on his wide-brimmed straw hat and grinned, "This is cool."

"It fits? I was worried about all that hair."

Carson was trying on his vest, "Did you get yourself something?"

Rodney pulled a tan cap with an embroidered marlin on it, "Yeah. And I got this for Madison." He pulled a child's fishing vest from the bag, "I figured a little girl could find things to put in all these pockets."

Sheppard laughed, "You're a good man, Rodney; I don't care what people say about you."

Rodney looked hurt, "Wha…?"

Ronon got up and gave Rodney a big bear hug, "Sheppard's kidding, McKay."

Dinner that night consisted of freshly grilled fish, more corn-on-the-cob that Carson bought when he returned to the marina, accompanied by lots of fish stories from Carson and Ronon. After clean up, Sheppard and Carson poured over the lake's navigational maps and the latest fishing reports to plan Carson's day. Everyone helped Carson get his gear ready before they called it a night.

_**Day Five**_

Sheppard woke fleetingly when he heard voices, then felt the houseboat rock as Rodney and Carson pushed off. The Whaler's motor started a distance from the houseboat. Carson no doubt rowed them away before starting the motor to keep from waking him. As the din of the motor faded, he heard a loud splash, Ronon taking an early morning swim in the lake. Sheppard drifted back to sleep.

Some time later, the smell of bacon and coffee woke him, and realized he was actually hungry. He gingerly stretched his body, and although he felt twinges of pain, he was relieved that the burning sensation in his chest was nearly gone. He took a deep breath and didn't feel like his chest was going to explode. Feeling more encouraged about his recuperation than he had in days, Sheppard got out of bed, dressed, and headed across the hallway to the head.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found Ronon about ready to scramble eggs. "Chewie, need some help there, buddy?"

Hey, Sheppard; no, got everything under control."

"Better watch out, I'm going to tell Cookie to put you to work when we get back to Atlantis."

"Be better than that drivel we get served." Rodney mumbled.

"Carson got off on his fishing jaunt okay?"

"Yeah, he met up the guy he was paired with yesterday, and they took off. He said to expect him back about mid-afternoon; weigh-in, whatever that is, was earlier for the amateur division."

"He's going to be one happy guy when he gets back, whether he catches fish or not."

Ronon announced breakfast was ready. After they ate, Rodney started to pull out his pad, but Sheppard said, "No, time for some mindless fun. We're going swimming. Get your trunks on and come up top."

"Sheppard, I don't want to go swimming."

"You _can_ swim?"

Testily, McKay replied, "Yes."

"Then it's settled; you're going swimming."

By mid-morning, the three were on the upper deck; Ronon dove into the water off the boat, while Sheppard opted for the slide. He knew he would be in enough trouble with Beckett for swimming, much less, diving into the water. When he surfaced, Sheppard looked back up at Rodney, who was standing by the slide.

"Come on, Rodney; it's only cold for a minute."

"Cold; I don't like cold."

"Down the slide."

Rodney's shoulders dropped as the realization that he was not getting out of swimming. He climbed onto the slide and dropped into the lake, making a big splash.

After swimming for a while, Sheppard became fatigued and began to tread water to conserve his energy. Within a few seconds, Ronon swam up beside him. "You need to get out."

"I'm fine, just getting my second wind." Ronon just stared at him. Sheppard sighed, "Okay I'll get out."

Rodney followed him out of the lake, and they both got into the hot tub to warm up. After ten minutes, an exhausted but satisfied Sheppard dropped onto a lounge chair and fell asleep.

"Sheppard, wake up."

Groggily, Sheppard slowly opened his eyes, in response to whoever was pushing on his shoulder to wake him up. "Wha…" A shadowy outline was all he could make out. He pushed up, nearly bumping heads with the shadow, which turned out to be Rodney.

"What do you want? In case you hadn't noticed, I was asleep."

"Time you woke up, there's food."

"Just what part of 'I was asleep' did you not understand?"

"Ronon brought food; I figured you were hungry. Besides, if you're crashed out when Beckett gets back, he'll be pissed that we let you do too much."

Sheppard reluctantly sat up, "Oh…I see. You're not worried about me; it's your own hide you're worried about."

"You want to piss him off?"

Sighing, Sheppard slowly rose from the lounger surprised, he wasn't as sore as he expected from swimming; in fact, he felt stronger. "No, I don't."

A platter of ham and turkey, along with a loaf of bread sat on the bar. Sheppard was hungry but he didn't want to admit it to Rodney. He made a turkey sandwich, grabbed a real beer, and returned to his chair. "When's Beckett due back?"

"He said his weigh-in was around 1:30, it's that now."

"Already? I must have slept for three hours."

Ronon came up from the lower deck, carrying a bag of chips, which he tossed to Sheppard. "You did, needed it. Could hardly keep McKay from waking you up."

"So, Rodney, enjoy your swim?" Sheppard asked.

"No…well, that's not true, I actually feel more energized."

"Thought you would, except for Chewie here, we all needed some physical activity. I don't know about the rest of you, but now that Carson has had the opportunity to get the fishing in he wanted, I think we need to decide where we want to go next."

Rodney opened his mouth, "I vote we retu…"

Sheppard stopped him with one word, "No."

"What if I was going to say return to Vegas?"

"You weren't and not going to; we've got just under two weeks left, so we need to explore more of the US."

"Three."

"What do you mean three?"

"Uh…when I talked to Radek yesterday, Woolsey had a message for you. He and Landry decided since we were kind of stuck in Vegas for a week while you were in the hospital and since Area 51 asked for more time, Landry extended our leave for another week."

"And you were going to tell me this when?"

"Now."

"McKay…"

Ronon spoke up, "So, does this mean we can go to where Wyatt Earp lived?"

Sheppard was glaring at McKay, while he answered Ronon, "Yeah, that's exactly where we go next. I'm certain Rodney can't wait to experience more of the Wild West." He was no longer glaring at McKay but smirking.

Rodney groaned.

~~ooOoo~~

Carson returned around three in the afternoon, excited about his day. He had caught the heaviest string of bass, and the largest bass in the amateur class, winning a thousand dollars, a new rod and reel, and a gift certificate to the pro shop at the marina. After taking a shower, he joined the guys on deck.

The first thing Sheppard noticed about him was that the Scotsman was beaming. "Have a good time, doc?"

"Aye, I did, laddie. More fun than I expected. One of those spots you and I looked at was a hot one. My partner did pretty well, but I got lucky and got the bigger bass."

"What was your partner like?"

"His name was Ed Murray, and he owns a plumbing company in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Nice guy; married, a couple of kids and grandkids, just an ordinary guy. It was so refreshing to talk about fishing and the weather, and family…we even talked plumbing. Not a mention of a Wraith or a stargate or anything…very pleasant day."

"Sounds like you had a good day, doc. Going back tomorrow?"

"The amateur division was only one day, but I'd like to go back at weigh-in for the pros. See if they did any better than I did."

"A thousand dollars, I'd call that pretty big."

"Aye, it is but two days of fishing, whoever has the biggest fish, or the heaviest catch will win ten thousand dollars and a boat; not bad for a couple of days. At least, we will eat well tonight. And John, the money I won, I think it should go toward this trip. You've been covering too much of the expenses."

Sheppard frowned, "We'll discuss that later."

Beckett let Sheppard's response go and asked, "What did you guys do while I was gone?"

"Sheppard went swimming." Rodney's comment garnered another glare from Sheppard.

"You went swimming, laddie; how do you feel?"

"Fine."

McKay continued, "Ronon had to help him back onto the houseboat."

"Damnit, McKay."

Beckett chuckled, "Don't be mad at him, I told him to report back what the little mice did while the cat was away."

"Really, Carson this constant conversation about how I am feeling is getting old and I want these staples out."

"That I can do, come downstairs, and we'll take them out right now."

About an hour later, everyone had showered, changed, and gathered in the salon. Sheppard was surprised to see a bottle of scotch sitting on the counter, along with four squat glasses.

"Carson? Your Scotch?"

"Yep, it's after four in the afternoon and time for a cocktail." He poured a glass for everyone, and smiled at Sheppard, "Yes, even you…time to wean you from the hard drugs. You are healing nicely; the staples are out, time to get you back in shape."

Sheppard raised his glass, "Here, here to that, doc."

They spent the next two hours relaxing before Beckett decided to fix dinner. He got the bass out of the fridge and gathered other ingredients, including a six-pack of beer.

Rodney's curiosity got the better of him, "What are you making."

"Ed gave me the recipe; it's called 'Drunken fish." Carson opened one beer and measured out two cups. He then passed out three beers to his friends, retaining one for himself. "The recipe calls for two cups of beer plus a beer per person. Two cups go in the sauce, and the rest we drink, hence, the drunken fish. The recipe just doesn't say who gets drunk."

Over dinner, they discussed where the trip would take them next. Sheppard told Carson, "I just found out this afternoon that we have another week of leave thanks to General Landry. So I was thinking we stay here for another two days, then head for Arizona and New Mexico. How does that sound?"

"Peachy…" was Rodney's only reply, prompting Sheppard to laugh.

"So if Rodney thinks its peachy, then its peachy…so that's the plan. Tomorrow, however, I think we should explore more of the lake. There are a couple of other marinas we could visit, maybe have lunch."

"We should take the boat I rented for today back tomorrow."

"Okay, and we should rent some water-skis and maybe a tube. Going to be a fun day." For the rest of the evening, the friends watched a couple of movies, then called it a night.

Sheppard wasn't certain exactly what wakened him, but he was instantly alert. There was the sound of footsteps, someone walking through the houseboat. He listened for a moment, expecting to hear the bathroom door close, certain it must be Beckett, or maybe Rodney rummaging for a snack. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he heard a second set of footsteps, then the creak of a door, Carson's door.

Easing out of bed, Sheppard grabbed his P-14 from the dresser drawer, and slipped up against his closed doorway, listening. A muffled cry from Beckett sent him into the hallway; a blow to the back of his head sent him to the floor, unconscious.

A male voice whispered, "Who the fuck is he? He wasn't with the other two at the marina."

"I don't know," his taller companion spoke, reaching for Sheppard's gun, "but he's got a pretty fancy 9-mil here. What the hell are they doing with weapons like this? Bennie, you said these guys were an easy target; I think we should get out of here."

"No, finish tying these two up while I look for the other guy; he must be below. Then we'll look for the money this guy won today and stuff he bought yesterday. We can sell that stuff for some good money."

On the lower deck, the thud that resounded when Sheppard fell onto the deck awakened Rodney. He heard what sounded like a couple of people moving around, and became concerned that Sheppard might have fallen. He got out of bed and ran up the stairs.

"Carson, Sheppard, everything oka...ugh," Rodney tripped over Sheppard, slamming into the wall. Stunned, it took him a moment to realize that a gun was sticking against his ribs.

"Who are you people?" Rodney was scared, from his vantage point he couldn't tell if Sheppard was breathing.

"Shut up or I'll shut you up." Bennie stepped up next to Rodney, "Anyone else on this damn boat?"

Rodney stuttered, "No, just us…hey, he…he's hurt, can I check on him?"

"Hurt...well, we don't want him to be lonely." Bennie slugged Rodney across the jaw, splitting his lip open. "Now you're hurt, too." Let's get these three into the front and then get the loot and get out of here.

Bennie pushed Rodney into the salon and pulled a piece of rope from the knapsack he was carrying, and tied Rodney's hands, and feet. He then forced Rodney to the floor, waving Sheppard's gun in his face. "Now you stay there or one of you dies."

Going back down the short hall, Bennie dragged Sheppard into the salon, leaving him behind but close to Rodney. Frank appeared with Carson, who had also been hit; one of his eyes was already swollen, blood flowing across his face. He pushed Carson onto the floor, where he fell across Rodney.

"Now all of you be quiet, or I swear I'll kill you."

Carson spoke, his voice raspy, "I remember you two; you were at the pro shop."

"Yeah, that was us…now shut up."

Frank and Bennie began searching through the houseboat, returning to the salon every now and then to drop stuff onto the dining room table.

They heard them go down the stairs and Rodney whispered to Carson, "You okay?"

"No, Rodney, my head hurts. John, what happened to him?"

"Don't know, he was already out before I came upstairs."

"Ronon?"

"I told them there was no one else here; I'm hoping he woke up."

Bennie came back into the salon carrying Rodney's wallet, laptop, and pad. After he dropped the items on the table, he came over to Rodney. "I thought you told me no one else was here, but someone's stuff is in the fourth bedroom. Where is he?"

"I told you, not here."

Bennie whacked Rodney across the cheekbone with the barrel of Sheppard's gun, "Don't lie to me, where is he?"

"Ugh…h-he ran into some friends…staying with them to-tonight."

"You better not be lying to me."

Frank came from the back of the houseboat, "Found the fishing rods; they're up top. Come help me get 'em down."

The two robbers headed for upper deck ladder. The door closed just as Sheppard began to stir.

Carson whispered, "John…John be quiet, they'll hear you."

"Uh...what the hell…"

"We're being robbed, but they haven't found Ronon yet."

Sheppard moaned, "You guys okay?"

In unison, Rodney and Carson answered, "Fine."

Sheppard tried to roll over, "Somehow…I don't believe you. Who's behind me?"

"Me," Rodney answered.

"The ropes around my wrists are loose, can you reach them?"

Rodney wiggled closer and after a few minutes of groping, eliciting a 'Watch it McKay' once from Sheppard, Rodney got his hands on the ropes binding Sheppard's hands. He almost had them loose when Frank and Bennie returned.

The robbers started throwing the items they had stolen into heavy cloth bags they had brought with them, then Frank took the bags out to the Whaler. When he returned, Bennie said, "Frank, find the keys, so that we can get out of here." Frank headed for the helm's console and found the keys to the larger Whaler.

"What about them, Bennie?"

"I think we need a little insurance, bring him with us." Bennie pointed to Carson.

Sheppard was feigning being unconscious, so Rodney quickly spoke, "Hey… you don't need to take him, we won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, well, this way, we can guarantee you won't tell anyone, or your buddy here dies."

Frank grabbed Carson's bound hands and pulled him up, shoving him through the doorway. Bennie knelt down next to Rodney and grinned, "Nice knowing you…good night." He struck Rodney, half-heartedly, and left, closing the door behind him.

Sheppard whispered, "Rodney, get me loose."

Rodney found the ropes, and managed to get Sheppard untied. As the colonel got his feet unbound, they heard a deep voice yelling for the robbers to halt…Ronon.

Sheppard jumped up and slid his hand under the couch cushion where Ronon had stashed a gun when the Park Rangers had visited. Good man, he had left the gun there. He ran to the door as he heard the Whaler's engines roar to life. As he opened the door, a gunshot rang out from above him. He stepped onto the front deck and saw Ronon jump from the upper deck into the boat, slamming into Frank. The robber's bulk was similar to Ronon's, and they struggled until Bennie hit the throttle and turned the Whaler sharply left. As Bennie swerved the boat toward the opening of the cove, the motion threw Ronon and Frank overboard. Bennie headed out toward open water, never looking back.

Frank was struggling to swim away, but Ronon grabbed him, pressing the 9-mil against the robber's temple. "You struggle and I will kill you." Frank went limp and Ronon began to pull him back toward the houseboat. Sheppard jumped in the water and helped Ronon drag the man onto the shore.

Sheppard placed the barrel of his gun under Frank's chin, "Your buddy mentioned a boat ramp, where is it?"

"I don't know." Frank spat at Sheppard, prompting Ronon to tighten his grip on the man, his hand around Frank's throat.

Ronon growled, "Answer him," then released the pressure on Frank's throat.

Sheppard asked again, his voice harsh, "The ramp, where is it?"

Frank was gasping for breath, "Across…the lake…Boulder Harbor."

"Tie him up," Sheppard stood up, "I'm going to untie Rodney and get the keys to the other boat."

As he jumped onto the front deck, Sheppard heard Rodney yelling for him. "John, John…what's going on?"

Rushing inside, Sheppard began to untie McKay, "We got one of them, but the other one got away with Carson. We're going after him." He helped Rodney to his feet, then reached into the helm console for a map of the lake. He found the boat ramp across the lake in the direction of the dam. "Contact the Park Rangers, tell them what happened, and tell them we are heading to Boulder Harbor...," he wrote down the coordinates, "tell them the robber is armed, and has Carson hostage. And get them here to secure this bastard."

Ronon entered with Frank, throwing him onto the floor. He had bound Frank's hands, and had taken one of the anchor ropes and began to bind his feet, securing him, so he couldn't get free.

Sheppard turned to Ronon, "Where's the other weapon? Bennie's got mine, you've got one, and I found the one you left under the couch. Rodney needs a gun."

"Must be one in Rodney's room, the one under the couch cushion was Carson's. I'll get it."

Sheppard ran into his room to get more clips, his K-Bar, slipping on a hoodie and his sneakers. As soon as Ronon returned, they grabbed the keys and headed for the smaller Whaler that Carson had rented. Finding the robbers' boat tied to the Whaler, Sheppard cut it loose with his K-Bar and started the Whaler's motor. He handed a high-powered light stored under the dashboard to Ronon, "Keep this shined toward the front." Sheppard inputted the coordinates in the boat's GPS, pushed the throttle forward and headed across the lake, thankful that there was a glimmer of moonlight to help guide the way.

The lake surface was smooth as glass; the intermittent moonlight filtered by scattered clouds, created a mirror-like effect on the water. Sheppard's heart was pounding in his chest; they had to get to Carson before Bennie left. He was hanging on to the belief that if Bennie were a killer, they would all be dead already. He hoped the bastard didn't have enough guts to commit murder.

Over the din of the motor, Ronon asked, "How far is this place?"

Sheppard yelled back, "About five miles or so, it's a boat ramp with a dock, not a marina…when we get close, I'm gonna cut the lights, hopefully there will be some lights on the ramp."

As the minutes ticked by, both men became more and more focused on their task. As they approached the harbor opening, Sheppard motioned for Ronon to shut off the spotlight. He steered the Whaler toward the port shoreline which was bathed in shadows, turned off the running lights, and throttled the motor back.

As they slowly made their way along the shore, they could see the boat ramp illuminated by a few pole lights. There were a few vehicles with boat trailers parked in the lot next to the ramp, but only one boat, a Boston Whaler, tied to the front of the dock. Sheppard eased the boat a bit farther through the shadows, until they could clearly see Bennie pulling the items he had stolen out of the boat. Carson wasn't visible; Sheppard assumed he was lying in the boat.

He whispered, "Drop the anchor slowly."

Ronon put the anchor into the water without a splash, and Sheppard motioned for the Satedan to follow him. They climbed off the boat into the shallow water along the shore and headed for the ramp, using the parked vehicles as a shield. They had anchored approximately five hundred feet from the boat dock, but stopped short, about twenty-five feet, hiding behind a pick-up truck.

"Ronon, wait until he heads for his car, then get to the boat and get Carson. I'll take care of Bennie."

Ronon nodded, and when Bennie exited the boat with an armful of fishing rods and headed for his car, Ronon took off, moving swiftly and quietly toward the boat. Sheppard waited until Ronon made it on board, then stepped out from behind the truck and approached Bennie.

"Going somewhere?"

Bennie stiffened, and whirled around, Sheppard's P-14 in his hand. His faced registering surprise to see Sheppard facing him, gun steady, pointed directly at him.

"So, looks like this is a standoff, wonder which one of us is the better shot?"

Sheppard laughed sarcastically, "I wouldn't go there. You won't know what hit you if you want to play that game."

"Look, your friend's in the boat. I'll just take my leave and we'll call it even."

"No, we won't; it's over."

Ronon yelled, "He's fine, Sheppard."

Bennie's head snapped toward the boat, to see Carson on his feet, Ronon untying his hands. His head snapped back to Sheppard.

"You are a piece of work Bennie, a couple of bumbling thieves, and you left your partner behind to save your own hide. Nah…not letting you go. Put the gun down and this will be over."

The sound of sirens cut faintly through the quiet of the harbor. Sheppard said quietly, "The Park Police are on their way, Bennie. It's done."

Bennie quickly glanced toward the water, the blue flashing lights of the Park Police boats were getting closer.

"No, I'm not giving up. You can go to hell…" Bennie's finger squeezed the P-14's trigger, but the gun flew from his hand just as it fired. Sheppard had placed a bullet into Bennie's forearm.

Ronon had jumped from the boat and was running toward Sheppard and Bennie when they fired. He rushed toward Bennie, kicking the gun out of the robber's reach. Sheppard joined him.

"Well, you didn't kill him."

Sheppard chuckled, "Told you, try to avoid killing at all cost."

Carson reached them, "John, are you alright?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Been better, bastards loved to hit hard." He knelt down next to Bennie, "Ronon, help me, need to get this bleeding stopped. Go get the first-aid kit from the boat."

"Ronon, leave your gun here on the ground." Sheppard put his gun down on the ramp, and stepped away from the weapons, as Ronon headed for the boat. The first Park Police boat docked, and four officers hopped on the boat, guns drawn. One stayed on the dock watching Ronon.

The first officer to approach Sheppard was the same officer, who they had spoken to twice already. He holstered his weapon as he walked up to Sheppard, motioning for another officer to secure the weapons on the ground.

"Well, well, colonel; we meet again. You guys alright?"

"Ronon and I are but Carson and Rodney were both beaten up. Is Rodney okay?"

"Yes, there are officers at the houseboat now. They have secured the other robber and are planning to transport McKay to the hospital to be checked out. Police and ambulances are rolling from Boulder City to this location. So, can you tell me what happened."

Ronon and the officer with him arrived, and Ronon handed the first-aid kit to Carson, prompting the Park Officer to shake his head. "You guys amaze me…you take them down, then patch them up."

Sheppard just shook his head, " Let me tell you how this went down, officer."

After giving a statement to the Park Police, Carson and Sheppard, Ronon riding with them, were loaded into an ambulance to be taken to the University hospital in Vegas, where McKay had transported.

Carson and Rodney both required stitches, and Carson had a slight concussion. Sheppard suffered a bad bruise but no concussion. Overall, Sheppard thought as they were dismissed from the hospital, they were lucky.

The Park Police officer was waiting to take them back to Callville Marina. "Gentlemen, the houseboat is still a crime scene, so I'm taking you to the lodge for the rest of the night. Vegas PD said they'd release the houseboat in the morning. Bennie's been treated and released, and both are in jail. This should be over soon, they confessed to the robbery."

It was nearly four in the morning when the four men arrived at the lodge. Exhausted, they retired to their rooms and slept.

_**Day Six**_

Sheppard and Ronon had just sat down for breakfast in the lodge restaurant, when they received a surprise visitor, Las Vegas PD Detective Hank Marshall.

"Colonel, Mr. Dex, fancy meeting you again."

"Detective, how are you." Sheppard smiled, a tad sheepishly, as he shook Marshall's hand.

"I think the correct question is how are you guys?" Marshall asked as he sat down.

"A little worse for wear; Rodney and Carson got banged up a bit, but they're okay. What brings you here?"

"Well, when I heard about your latest adventure, I decided to check things out. The robbers, Bennie Thompson and Frank Simmons are petty thieves, who hang around events like the bass tournament looking for high rollers to rob. They said they spotted your two friends in the pro shop, spending a lot of money using one of those 'rich peoples' credit cards,' and thought they were easy targets. Don't think they had a clue the two of you were with them. They saw Rodney leave Carson off and then followed Carson back to the houseboat yesterday after the weigh-in. They didn't get close enough to see there were other people onboard. Might have changed their mind if they had. They copped a plea pretty fast. I wanted you to know that I worked it out with the DA to return your possessions. I reminded him of the Caesar's robbery and let's just say…your rather highly placed connections. The Vegas PD will deliver everything later today."

"Thanks, Hank; we appreciate that."

"So my question is, when the hell are you leaving my jurisdiction?"

Sheppard laughed, "Well, not before breakfast, care to join us?"

Marshall grinned, "Only if you're buying, colonel."

About mid-day, they arranged for a new Whaler and returned to the houseboat after it was released. Later in the afternoon, a couple of Park Rangers delivered their stolen belongings. Ronon took Carson's fishing gear and sorted it out as Sheppard checked out the electronics. Setting the weapons aside, he told Ronon they would need to clean and check the guns.

Carson and Rodney had both gone to bed when they returned. About five o'clock, Carson wandered into the salon.

"Well, you certainly look perky." Sheppard gave the doctor a lopsided grin.

Carson muttered, "Cheeky bugger."

"Looks like the swelling's going down, but you have one hell of a black eye."

"Yeah, my vision's improving."

"How many stitches did you get to sew up that eyebrow?"

"It took three, cut wasn't big, but bled like hell."

Rodney, his voice a bit slurred from sleep, interrupted as he entered the salon, "Well...I have two stitches in my lip, and three on my cheek." The scientist was wearing the happy face pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, his hair a mess. Sheppard restrained from teasing him about the pajamas or his swollen lip.

Sheppard scoffed, "Okay then, that settles it…you win, Rodney." Carson chuckled when Rodney bristled at Sheppard's remark.

Before Rodney could reply, Ronon stuck a cup of coffee under Rodney's nose, ending the stitch debate. He then got coffee for the rest of them.

Rodney spotted his laptop and pad, grabbing them, "Thank goodness. I was worried we wouldn't get these back."

"We were lucky that they weren't kept for evidence. But those guys admitted the robbery, and Marshall intervened, so we got the stuff back in record time."

Rodney, who was already tapping away on the pad, remarked, "I'm hungry."

"Ronon warmed up some soup we bought at the restaurant before we left this afternoon; figured neither of you would feel like chewing anything."

While eating, Carson asked, "John, what's next? Do we want to go ahead and leave Lake Mead?"

"I think we should stick to our plan. Ronon and I'll go to the marina tomorrow morning, rent some skis and a tube, and we'll do what we planned. You two should be feeling better by tomorrow; and I'm better. Advil chased away all my aches this morning. So I vote we relax tonight, have some fun tomorrow, and then maybe consider leaving the next day or so."

Everyone agreed, and they spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the upper deck enjoying the evening sky and the hot tub. Sheppard noticed that Ronon kept a computer sleeve nearby at all times, a computer sleeve that had an uncharacteristic bulge in it. A bulge likely made not by a laptop but by a 9-mil.

Sheppard sighed softly, staring at the night sky, thinking how nothing changed for them. Regardless of where they were in the universe, they had to be ready for whatever came their way. However, he knew he was ready for a couple of days of mindless fun and willed the bad stuff to stay away. Surely, they could have two days in a row without trouble finding them. Surely.

_To be continued…_

* * *

Camcampgirl, in a review to Road Trip wrote this thought, _"__Shep comes to their rescue when they need it, then they return the favor by rescuing him from himself." _ A wonderful observation and a wonderful line; I asked for permission to use the line in this story and was given it. Carson uses the thought in the first section of this segment. Thanks, Camcampgirl, an extremely insightful comment about these characters.

Well, they have survived with a couple more days on Lake Mead, then off to the Wild West. Cowboys and Indians…right up their alley…even Rodney might have some fun! Hope to have the next installment soon, at least as soon as possible.

Thanks to all of you who are enjoying Road Trip. I hope you enjoyed this installment…I really appreciate you reading and thanks for the comments and private messages. I love them all!


	8. Part 5 The Wild Wild West…Day 1

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: _Part Five: The Wild Wild West…Day 1 _**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Five: Day 1 7,840

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **Leaving Lake Mead, tour guide Sheppard takes his friends to see the Grand Canyon with some adventures along the way.

Apologies for the delay between chapters…the holidays, work, and tendonitis in my right wrist slowed me down a bit. Thanks to those of you who sent PM asking about the next installment, I really appreciate your patience and interest. This chapter is transitional with a little action; I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

**Part Five: The Wild Wild West Day 1**

_Day 1- Route 66 and the Canyon_

John Sheppard took a last glance into the salon of the houseboat, then pulled the door shut and hopped onto the dock. As he sauntered toward the parking lot where Rodney, Carson, and Ronon were waiting, he reflected on the past two days; the kind of days he had hoped for when they started on this journey.

The weather had cooperated, the days warm, the nights mild, and the fishing had been spectacular. Best of all, no bad guys popped out of the lake. Sheppard chuckled, the lack of bad guys had not kept Ronon from keeping his 9-mil close; the big Satedan wasn't going to be surprised again.

Ronon was leaning against the front grill of the Rover, while Carson fiddled with his new collection of fishing gear stashed in the rear compartment; Rodney was pacing, talking on the phone. Sheppard headed straight for McKay and snatched the cell phone from the scientist's hand.

"Give me that phone back," McKay carped as he grabbed for the phone.

Sheppard batted McKay's hand away, "Hey, Zelenka…Rodney can't talk any longer; we're about to leave for the Grand Canyon." He paused, listening to Zelenka, "So everything's nominal?" He listened for a few seconds more, "Okay, let Woolsey and Lorne know where we're headed; Rodney will call you in a couple of days…bye."

"Sheppard, give me the damn phone," Rodney sucked in a deep breath, holding out his open palm.

"No," Sheppard snarked, as he dropped Rodney's phone into his jean's pocket, "you can have it after we get to the Grand Canyon…maybe; now get in the car."

Rodney huffed and opened the driver's door, prompting Sheppard to grab his arm, "Back seat, McKay...I'm driving; Ronon, Carson, time to go."

As he slid into the Range Rover, Sheppard savored being back behind the wheel. Although only a couple of weeks had passed since he drove the car, at that moment, it felt like an eternity. He looked around at his friends, "Ready guys?"

"Seatbelts on, colonel; let's go," Carson answered from the back seat.

Sheppard pulled out of the parking lot and within a few minutes, the azure blue lake was no longer in sight. He felt a little tug of regret at leaving Lake Mead despite the problems they had encountered. He had enjoyed the peaceful times they spent having dinner or lounging on the upper deck, and the fun they had the last two days. What he didn't miss the pain he was in when they first arrived, although, he was loath to admit to Carson that he was still not a hundred percent. Glancing in the rear-view mirror at the good doctor, a slight wry grin crossed Sheppard's face; somehow, he suspected Cason already knew that.

"John, how far is the Grand Canyon from the loch?"

"About five hours, we're headed to the El Tovar Lodge on the south rim of the canyon."

"I took geography in school in Edinburgh, and we studied about the Grand Canyon; I'm really looking forward to seeing it."

Sheppard replied, "One summer break from the Academy I spent a few days there with a couple of fellow cadets. It was a lot of fun; we did a lot of hiking and mountain climbing, slept out under the stars. There were thousands of stars, and I remember thinking how far away they were, now…not so much."

Beckett's Scottish lilt softened as he replied, "I hear you, John; our perspective has certainly changed."

Ronon asked, "What is this Grand Canyon?"

"It's a huge and very old gash in the planet; I think is about 275 miles long and nearly 20 miles wide. The Colorado River and other waterways cut through the rock over thousands of years, and it's now about a mile deep, damn big."

"Ouch…Carson watch it, my leg hurts." Rodney, hunched over his laptop, jerked his left leg away from Carson's right knee, which had bumped into his calf.

"Oh…you whining bugger, you have a bruise on your leg Rodney; you are not in mortal danger."

"I don't care if it's just a bruise, it hurts."

Carson frowned, "Rodney…if you hadn't been so daft and done what John told ya, you wouldn't have fallen so many times and ended up with all those bruises."

"Skiing is stupid; I only did it because you guys pushed me into doing it_. 'Come on, Rodney, water skiing is fun,' _yeah…lots of fun. I am now covered in black and blue marks, my legs hurt, my arms are killing me, and my lip still hurts from being hit by those goons."

"Then stop typing if your arms are hurting," Carson reached once more behind his seat for his medical kit, and pulled out a bottle of pills. "Here, take a couple of these, they will help the pain."

Rodney glared at the doctor, but took the pills and swallowed them dry, not noticing Carson's smirk.

Ronon snickered, "It was fun."

"You certainly caught on fast, Chewie; pretty obvious you were having fun," Sheppard replied.

"Yeah, I really liked skiing, but I meant watching McKay fall over and over again was fun."

McKay sputtered, "Fun…fun? I'm simply overjoyed you had so much entertainment at my expense. I must have swallowed half the damn lake and flyboy over here, who thinks every motorized vehicle has to go at warp speed, took off like a bat out of hell every time."

"McKay, the boat has to accelerate to pull the skier up." Sheppard laughed, "In your case, I guess we didn't have enough power to get your ass out of the water."

Rodney sputtered, unintelligibly, and Carson interrupted, "Okay now, everyone; let's leave Rodney alone. You have to admit that he did try to learn to ski." He began to snicker, "Besides…I have his efforts to ski on vid; we can critique his form later."

Wide-eyed, Rodney retorted, "You filmed me?" Carson nodded. "Okay, you three have fun at my expense, like always. Now, leave me alone, I'm working."

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, "What the hell are you working on? This is a vacation; you're supposed to be relaxing."

"Oh yeah…this is certainly been a relaxing vacation, nothing eventful, just fun, fun, fun. I said, leave me alone."

Carson tapped Sheppard on the shoulder, and sarcastically whispered, "Mr. Cranky must have not gotten enough coffee this morning, best we leave him alone."

As Sheppard nodded, Rodney muttered, "I heard that," prompting laughter from the others.

"So, Carson, did you do any rock climbing when you lived in Scotland?"

"No, laddie…I'm afraid fishing and watching rugby were my athletic pursuits."

"There's some good rock-climbing on the south rim where we're heading. Think I might like to do some climbing, been a long time; Ronon, you game?"

Ronon quickly answered, "Yeah."

"Okay, then we'll go climbing and these two can do something else."

"John, how long will we be staying at the Grand Canyon?"

"We'll get there about mid-afternoon; today, we'll relax, have a good dinner, and then get up early tomorrow. There's an aerial tour of the canyon, which will let you guys see how magnificent it is, then decide what to do in the afternoon." Glancing over at Ronon, he added, "Maybe we'll go rock climbing the following morning. To answer your question, Carson, I'd say a couple of days."

"Rock climbing sounds good to me, Sheppard." Ronon leaned forward, pointing out the Rover's windshield, "Is that Lake Mead?"

"Yep, that's the lake."

Carson gazed out his window, "This near where you rescued me?"

"No, this is further south than that; it won't be long until we pass over the bridge where you'll be able to see the dam."

Another ten minutes passed before Sheppard slowed the Rover, "Guys, we're approaching the bridge. Not too much traffic so I'm gonna slow down some so you get a good view of the dam."

Carson was the first to spot the enormous structure, "Oh…that thing is huge."

Rodney, who was leaning over Carson's shoulder, remarked, "An amazing feat of engineering, finished about 1936…remarkable."

Ronon leaned near the steering wheel and quietly asked Sheppard, "That thing is holding back the water of the lake?"

"Yeah, like Rodney said, pretty amazing."

Ronon continued to stare, "When we were on the other side of that; I had no idea it would be that big." As they exited the bridge, Ronon sat back in his seat, "Your world has done some pretty amazing things."

Sheppard scoffed, "Yeah, I suppose we have, but we've done some stupid things as well."

McKay settled back in his seat and casually asked, "How long 'till we eat?"

Before Sheppard could answer, Carson pulled a plastic grocery sack he had tucked under the driver's seat, withdrawing a granola bar, "Here, I packed some snacks just for you," handing Rodney the bar. He was about to put the sack back on the floorboard when two hands appeared from the front seat. He gave Sheppard and Ronon both granola bars and took one for himself.

Between bites Sheppard said, "As for lunch, Kingman, AZ is about half-way, and where we'll pick up I-40. I thought we'd stop for lunch there; find a fast food joint or something. We should be there in a little over an hour."

Sheppard and Ronon passed the time discussing rock-climbing, Carson took a nap, and Rodney continued to do whatever he was doing on his laptop. Once 1-40 and US 93 merged, it was only a few miles until they reached the exit for Kingman. Sheppard veered off the interstate, and spotted a food mart with gas pumps.

"Time to fill up the Rover; let's do that first, maybe they can give us the name of a good place to eat." Sheppard pulled into the service station, and hopped out of the car, intending to pump gas. Ronon stopped him.

"I can do that."

Sheppard grinned, "Yeah, you can." He handed Ronon the credit card and walked into the food mart, thinking that Ronon was becoming quite a good Earthman. Carson and Rodney headed for the restrooms and Sheppard the counter.

He asked the cashier, "Where's a good place to eat?"

"Best place in town is Mr. D'z Route 66 Diner…it's not far from here."

"Route 66…does that go through here?"

"Yep, there's even a museum of stuff about Route 66."

Sheppard asked for directions, thanked the man, rounded everyone up, and headed for the diner. He pulled into the parking lot of the colorful eatery, with its turquoise walls and red, pink, and yellow trim.

They entered the diner where a server flashed them a huge smile as she greeted them, "Hello, boys, just find yourselves a seat." The 'boys' headed to a pink booth next to a window in the small restaurant.

Menus were on the table, Rodney grabbed one, "I'm starving."

Ronon grunted, "Like always," eliciting a glare from Rodney, who started to reply, but the server arrived.

The tall brunette identified herself as Maggie, and she was smiling broadly, "Well…it's not often such good looking men walk in here, mostly get cowboys or tourists. Tell me you're not just passing through." She was staring at Sheppard as she spoke.

"Sorry, just passing through…uh…Maggie," Sheppard answered, then quickly looked at his menu.

"Story of my life in this godforsaken town; so what can I get you?"

They gave Maggie their orders, and once she left Rodney crossed his arms, "So, I see Captain Kirk's made another conquest."

"Rodney, shut up; she was just being nice," but Sheppard was blushing slightly.

Rodney sighed, "What the hell these women see in you when you haven't shaved in days is beyond me. You look scruffy."

Carson laughed, "Yeah…that tells us how much you know about women. Women like scruffy."

Sheppard ignored them, "Guys…we are on the infamous Route 66, at one time the most famous cross-country road in the United States. There's a museum nearby, think we should check it out before we leave."

Maggie brought their drinks, the diner's famous root beer, and shortly after, their burgers and fries. The four men were hungry, chomping down their food, not speaking for a few minutes. Maggie refilled their root beers; after she left, Carson was the first to speak.

"I swear John…we need to eat a bit healthier," Carson then stuffed two fries at the same time into his mouth, somewhat gleefully.

"Yeah…you look like you are suffering," Sheppard replied.

Carson grinned, "Oh…I am."

They finished lunch, bid Maggie goodbye, and walked the short distance across the street to the museum. After spending nearly forty-five minutes wandering through the museum, the guys returned to the Rover, and after Sheppard refused Ronon's request to drive, they headed for the interstate.

Ronon had been quiet since they returned to the interstate. While Ronon being quiet was usually not cause for alarm, Sheppard was concerned, wondering if the Satedan was unhappy about not driving. While Rodney and Carson were chattering in the background about the Route 66 museum, he asked, "Hey, Chewie…what are you so quiet about? You're not upset about me not letting you drive, are you?"

Gruffly, Ronon muttered, "Yeah."

Sheppard swallowed, "Listen…it's not that I don't trust you…it's just…," he stopped when he saw a huge grin erupt on Ronon's face. "You're not upset, are you?"

Ronon shook his head, "No, just fooling with you."

"Then why so quiet, you looked like you had something on your mind."

"Just wondering why your people would build a monument to a road…seems silly."

Sheppard blew out a deep breath; Ronon was right, building a monument to a road probably did seem like a trivial thing. Compared to what they had been through, it was.

"You're right, Chewie; it is silly, but you have to understand that although the people of Earth have been through world wars and other horrible situations, they've never faced a threat like Sateda did. We've never had to deal with not knowing if we were going to be culled at any moment. So, what appears to be trivial became important."

"I get that, but why is that roadway so special?"

"When the US was young, between World War I and II, there was still a kind of frontier spirit. You know about the Wild West, the gunslingers, ranchers; lots of people wanted to move to the western part of the US to find their fame and glory. Talk of gold, wide-open spaces, and new places to live was a lure they couldn't resist. Route 66 was part of the highway system that the US developed in the 1920s. Once these highways were built, Americans, with their love of automobiles, took to the open road and never looked back. The interest in Route 66 is more about the people, and their stories than it is about the road itself."

Ronon appeared to reflect on Sheppard's words for a few seconds before he answered, "I get it, but…" a slight grin flickered on his face, "I still want to drive."

Sheppard laughed heartily, "I think you just became an official citizen of Earth."

The interstate from Kingman to their destination at the Grand Canyon was stark as the road behind them had been; however, as they approached the small town of Seligman, more and more trees began to dot the landscape. By the time, they reached Williams, AZ, where they would leave the Interstate and head for the Grand Canyon on Arizona highway 64, there were groves of green trees softening the gray-beige rocky landscape.

As Sheppard exited the Interstate, Rodney looked up from his laptop, "How much further to the hotel? I'm sore from sitting in this car."

"We're about sixty miles away; a little over an hour."

A dejected Rodney murmured, "Oh, great."

Sheppard, who was a bit stiff from sitting so long as well, took pity on Rodney, "Look, I want to fill up the Rover before we get to the hotel, so we won't have to worry about gas tomorrow. There's a tourist area up ahead, we'll stop there."

Rodney didn't reply but Carson piped up, "Good, those three glasses of root beer I had for lunch are calling."

Thirty minutes later, restaurants, service stations, and a tourist destination called Flintstone's Bedrock City came into view. As Sheppard pulled into a service station on his right, he noticed a large Winnebago travel trailer was leaving Bedrock City and entering AZ 64, heading north toward the Grand Canyon.

Carson spoke, "Wow…I haven't thought about the Flintstones in ages. I loved that cartoon as a kid. My sisters and I were so excited when it was finally shown on TV in Edinburgh. _Yabba dabba doo_!"

Sheppard was stepping out of the vehicle when Carson uttered Fred Flintstone's famous line; he glanced at Ronon, who looked thoroughly confused. Turning to Carson, Sheppard grinned, "You're gonna have to explain the Flintstones to Ronon."

About fifteen minutes later, they piled back into the Rover. Rodney and Ronon had both bought snacks, Ronon his 2-liter Mountain Dew. Sheppard shook his head, "Chewie, I swear you're going to turn into that stuff."

"I like it."

"I'm just saying…" Sheppard began to reply but Ronon interrupted.

"How's this any different from all the coffee that you drink?"

Sheppard started to speak, but shrugged, "Okay…you got me…but I don't use sugar in my coffee, that stuff's loaded with it."

Rodney scoffed, "Yeah, this from the man who ate four pieces of that apple pie last night."

Frowning Sheppard retorted, "That pie would have gone to waste if I hadn't eaten it, and besides, they were little pieces."

For the next few minutes, Sheppard and Rodney squabbled over pie, until Carson ordered them to be quiet. Both men frowned, but fell silent as they were told. They drove in silence for a while, until Carson spotted the Winnebago in front of them.

"John, that the caravan that was leaving the Flintstone attraction when we arrived?"

"Yeah, I think it is. Surprised to see it, it should have been about fifteen minutes ahead of us." The travel trailer was moving slowly, and as they got closer, Sheppard realized it was also traveling erratically. "Something's wrong with it."

Sheppard pressed the accelerator to get closer, but before he could, the back left wheel on the trailer began to wobble violently. In an instant, the wheel came off and the Winnebago went careening off the roadway.

The four men in the Rover watched in horror as the trailer flipped onto its side, sliding several feet along the rocky roadside before coming to an abrupt halt as it slammed into a slight embankment.

Sheppard was already braking to slow the Range Rover as he told Rodney to call for help. The Rover skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the road, Sheppard and Ronon jumping out almost before the SUV came to rest, Carson right behind them.

The smell of burned rubber and leaking gasoline permeated the air, Sheppard ripped off his jacket throwing it onto the ground and turned to Carson, "You stay right here." Carson stopped in his tracks; Sheppard's expression was not one to disobey.

Ronon jumped onto one of the numerous rocks next to the Winnebago, then onto the top of the vehicle, which was fortunately lying on the driver's side, the doorway on top. Sheppard joined him, "We got to get these people out fast, too much gasoline leaking." Grabbing the door handle, Sheppard yanked the door open and Ronon jumped into the trailer. Sheppard heard faint moaning coming from inside.

Ronon shouted to him, "Sheppard, help."

Ronon was holding a small unconscious girl in his arms; Sheppard reached in the doorway and lifted the girl clear of the trailer. He hurried to the mid-section of the Winnebago, where the ground was free of rocks, intending on jumping down with the girl but found Carson waiting. "Carson, you need to stay clear; it's liable to explode."

"Give me the little girl," Carson yelled to Rodney, "Get over here…I need you."

Sheppard returned to the door, to find Ronon ready to hand a small crying boy to him. Returning to the Winnebago's center, he found Carson waiting, Rodney was carrying the little girl a safe distance away. As Carson took the boy and followed Rodney, Sheppard noticed the pool of gasoline leaking from the rear of the Winnebago was getting larger.

Ronon stuck his head out the opening, yelling, "I need your help."

Jumping down beside Ronon, Sheppard saw why, the adult occupants were both unconscious. The woman had a large cut on her head apparently caused by shards from the broken windshield scattered about. He started to lift her from the debris as he watched Ronon attempting to cut the driver out of his seat belt.

"Ronon, we've gotta get them out of here; gasoline is leaking badly."

"Get her; I'll be right behind you."

Though he worried about potential internal injuries, Sheppard had no choice but sling the woman over his shoulder. Near the opening, a couch arm provided a step allowing him to get the woman up and through the doorway. He was groping for the edge of the doorframe to pull himself up when he felt the woman being lifted away from him. Looking up, he saw Rodney's determined face, "I've got her; help Ronon."

Sheppard slipped back out of the opening, returning to Ronon's side. The Satedan was sheathing his knife, "Got him loose but something seems to be trapping his leg, can you see what it is?"

Bending under the dash, Sheppard saw that the man's foot was caught under the brake pedal, "I see what's trapped him, give me a second." Using his right hand, Sheppard pried up the pedal and pulled the man's mangled foot out, slicing his own left arm on a jagged piece of metal. Wincing from the cut, he yelled, "He's loose, let's go."

As the two men lifted the driver toward the opening, he regained consciousness and began to fight them, calling for his family. Ronon gripped the man tightly while Sheppard spoke to him, "Calm down, your family's out of here. We're getting you out, just stay calm."

The man looked wildly at Sheppard but calmed down, nodding that he understood. Ronon climbed out of the trailer, Sheppard holding the driver up until Ronon could pull him through the doorway. He was just about to pull himself out of the Winnebago when he heard a whimper. Frantically looking around, he spotted furry white legs and a tail trapped beneath a suitcase that had apparently fallen from an overhead storage bin. He kicked the suitcase away, uncovering a small white dog, its front leg bent, obviously broken.

"Hey, little guy, don't bite me now, I'm trying to help." Sheppard grabbed a jacket lying on the upturned couch and wrapped it around the dog, taking care to cradle his broken leg. "Good boy, let's get out of here."

As Sheppard climbed out of the trailer, he heard yelling and saw Ronon and Rodney running toward him, waving their arms and yelling something unintelligible. He paused for a second, then realized what they were trying to tell him, the Winnebago was on fire. He leapt off the trailer, barely keeping his balance, and ran like hell. Ronon rushed toward him, grabbed Sheppard by the arm, pulling him away from the rapidly growing fire. They were barely clear when the Winnebago exploded, the force of the blast knocking both men off their feet.

As debris from the explosion rained down on them, Ronon hollered, "Sheppard, you okay?"

Sheppard was slow in answering, his voice raspy, "Yeah." He had fallen onto his shoulder to keep from falling on the little dog, and pain was shooting through his right arm. He looked at the bundle in his left arm to see dark-brown eyes staring at him, "Yeah…we're fine."

Rodney had reached them, helping Sheppard up as Ronon got to his feet on his own, "What the hell were you thinking? We were yelling at you to get out of the damn trailer before it exploded."

Sheppard, his breathing a bit labored, answered, "Had to get this little guy out." He shifted his grip on the dog, pressing the injured animal closer to his chest; the dog lifted his head and licked Sheppard's neck. Smiling faintly, he looked at Rodney, "See, he just thanked me."

With Rodney muttering about 'damn fool heroes', they joined Carson, who was examining the family. Carson had grabbed his larger medical kit from the Rover, pointing to it as Rodney walked up, "Get bandages and tape, and that bottle of saline." Rodney gathered everything and knelt down next to the doctor.

Sheppard, still reeling from the blast, sat on the ground next to the mother, "Carson, they gonna be okay?"

"Well, on the surface, they don't look too badly injured. The mother and daughter are unconscious but their vitals are strong, dad is a bit groggy, but I think his worst injury is a broken foot; the boy seems to be the least injured. However, I can't really tell about internal injuries or how bad the lassies' head injuries are without more tests."

"McKay, did you get help?"

"Yeah, reached the police in Williams; dispatcher said their ETA should be about fifteen minutes."

"Hasn't it been fifteen minutes yet?"

"No, just feels that way. You know…I can't believe that you risked your life for that damn dog."

"Rodney, he's a living thing and deserves to be rescued. I thought you liked animals."

"I do…they're okay…I just…you almost got blown up."

"Key word there, almost."

A passing car stopped and an older man and woman rushed toward them, offering to help. Carson put them to work helping him clean and bandaged the family's wounds. Shortly after the couple arrived, police officers arrived, followed soon by several fire trucks and two ambulances. While Carson conferred with the paramedics, Sheppard explained what happened to the police.

As the paramedics were loading the young boy onto an ambulance, he began to yell, "Charlie, where's Charlie."

His father, on a gurney next to him, tried to sooth his son, "Craig, calm down, I don't know about Charlie."

Sheppard walked over to the boy, "I think I might know where Charlie is, he's right here." Sheppard pulled open the jacket the little dog was wrapped in; Charlie's head popped out, his tail wagging. The boy began to cry.

The father reached out his hand, "The paramedics told me that you and your friends rescued us, all of us, including Charlie. How can we ever thank you?"

Sheppard shook the man's hand, "No thanks necessary, just get well." Turning to one of the paramedics, "This little guy has a broken front leg, tried to keep him warm, but can you take care of him?"

"Well, it's against regulations to transport an animal, but the hell with regulations." He reached for Charlie, "We'll take care of him, but sir, you need some first aid yourself."

Sheppard glanced down at the three-inch gash on his left forearm, which was still bleeding profusely. "Fortunately, I've got my own doctor with me; Dr. Beckett will take care of it." The paramedic nodded and got into the ambulance taking Charlie with him.

Carson walked over to him, "John, what am I going to do with you? Sit down on the ground; let me get the bleeding stopped and bandage the wound, but there are stitches in your future once we arrive at the hotel." Sheppard obeyed.

Carson ripped open a Quikclot package and pressed the medicated sponge into the wound until the bleeding stopped, then bandaged the injury. "Okay…that'll do, for the moment, but don't think I didn't notice that you've hurt your shoulder as well."

Sheppard frowned but didn't reply, as Ronon pulled him up, then handed him his discarded jacket. Sheppard slipped on his jacket and walked over to one of the police officers to inform them they were leaving. He returned to the Rover just as Rodney was about to get behind the wheel. "No, I'm driving."

"John, let Rodney drive...," Carson started but John cut him off.

"No…I'm fine." A slight nod from Carson and Rodney backed away. Sheppard slid into the Rover's driver's seat, and within minutes pulled onto the highway.

The four friends rode in silence for a few miles, until Rodney lamented, "Why the hell do we always seem to run into trouble?"

Carson sighed, "We do have a penchant for trouble, don't we?"

Sheppard replied in subdued tone, "It was an accident. We just happened to come upon an accident scene, where we could help; shit happens."

"I'm just glad the family appears to be okay. The mother and daughter both regained consciousness before the ambulances left the scene, that's very encouraging." Carson leaned wearily back in his seat, "But I must say, that was a very scary accident."

"At least, Sheppard rescued the dog," Rodney commented.

Sheppard's voice was tense, "McKay, I told you… that dog deserved to be…"

"Chill out, Sheppard…I meant that as a compliment. You did good, both you and Ronon did good."

Sheppard's voice softened, "So did you, Rodney and Carson you did too."

"John," Carson said, "how long until we get to this hotel? I could use a drink."

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, "Should be there in about thirty minutes, and I think a drink sounds like a good idea."

The bare rocky terrain around them became thickly dotted with trees as they entered the Grand Canyon National Park. They passed the Grand Canyon Airport and then through the small town of Tusayan.

Carson remarked, "What a quaint little area, very clean looking,"

"So close to the South Rim, I imagine this town exists because of the tourist business. I think the helicopter tours leave from the airport here." As they passed by the local McDonald's, Sheppard taunted Rodney, "Don't even think about asking me to stop Rodney; you don't need a quarter pounder with cheese."

"Bite me, Sheppard; I'm not hungry."

Carson snickered, "Rodney, are you ill?" Rodney answered with a sneer at Carson, then turning to look out the window.

Once through the tiny town, they again found themselves traveling along a tree lined two-lane road. The late-afternoon sun was bright, and the sky a clear deep blue. Ronon leaned forward looking out the windshield at the sky.

"It is beautiful here."

"Yeah...that it is, I have to say after all that beige rock and sand we've been seeing for the last couple of weeks, these green trees are nice.

Sheppard soon turned onto Center Road, heading for Grand Canyon Village where their hotel was located. Winding around Village Loop Drive, they found the El Tovar Hotel. The stone and dark-stained pine hotel sat along the canyon rim. A walkway along the rim was lined with people viewing the canyon. Sheppard pulled up in front of the hotel, and parked the car.

"Well, after a more adventurous day that we had expected, here we are; welcome to the Grand Canyon. Let's get checked in."

Carson and Ronon stayed with the car as the bellman unloaded their luggage; Sheppard and Rodney entered the hotel to check in. The lobby was cozy, dimly lit, and a feeling of history seemed to hang in the air. Sheppard had reserved four rooms, and as he pulled his credit card out, Rodney stopped him.

"No, you're not paying for everything; Carson and I decided...we're paying our share."

"Rodney…that's not…"

"Look, I don't care how much money your family has you're not going to pay for this entire trip. This hotel bill is on me, Carson's paying for food, and you can pay for any excursions. Next destination we'll rotate who pays what." Rodney handed his card to the clerk and collected their room keys.

Rodney and Sheppard headed back outside, where the bellman was stowing the last of their luggage on a cart. Carson was closing the Rover's rear hatch when they reached the car, Ronon was nowhere in sight.

Sheppard looked around, "Where did Ronon go?" Carson pointed toward the rim walk across the drive. Sheppard turned to the bellman, "Take the luggage inside; we'll be in shortly." Motioning for his friends to follow, he headed to where Ronon was standing.

Joining Ronon, they stood quietly, taking in the magnificent vista in front of them. The enormous canyon seemed to stretch endlessly, bands of rock that formed the interior walls of the canyon glowed red, amber and gold in the late-afternoon sun. The shadowed face of the canyon shimmered in blue, gray, and deep purple hues.

Ronon was mesmerized, "This is amazing; I've seen canyons before, but nothing like this."

"Aye, laddie; lots of beautiful scenery in Scotland but this is spectacular."

Rodney took a quick peek then turned away from the view, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I would like to get out of these clothes. I can still smell the gasoline from that fire."

Sheppard agreed, "Rodney's right; I'm thinking a shower would feel good about now. I'll park the car in the lot and be right up."

The hotel did not have elevators, so after Sheppard joined them, the guys tipped the bellman, grabbed their luggage, and headed up the stairs to their rooms. Sheppard was slipping the key card into his door when Carson reminded him, "I need to tend to your injury, John. After you take a shower, call me, I'm in 206; and be careful with that injury, just leave the bandage on when you shower."

Sheppard shrugged, muttering a quiet, "Okay," to Carson, as he entered his room, closing the door behind him. The room was cozy, like the lobby; pine furniture, rustic bedding, a large painting of an Indian village on the wall above the king-size bed. Tossing his bags onto the dresser next to the TV cabinet, he plopped down on the bed to untie his Salomon sneakers, then quickly stripped off his clothes. As he reached into one of the bags to grab his shampoo, he caught a glimpse of his right shoulder in the mirror; a purple and black bruise spread across his chest below his collarbone, extending along his upper arm. Lower on his abdomen, the surgical incision, now pink and puckered contrasted sharply against his suntanned skin. He traced the wound with his fingertips, a shudder running through his body as he remembered the hot, burning pain as the bullet struck him. Once again, he beat the odds; shaking his head, Sheppard wondered how long his luck was going to hold.

The bathroom was small, retro in style, and immaculate. Sheppard turned the shower on as hot as he could stand, and stepped into the tub, pulling the white shower curtain closed. For a few moments, he stood quietly allowing the steaming water to course across his body, warming his muscles, soothing the aches and pains that had developed in the last hour. He hadn't been a hundred percent before the afternoon's events, and the exertion of jumping onto and off the trailer, and lifting the family out had taken a lot out of him. He pressed his palms against the wall, leaning forward, the stream of water massaging his lower back. Despite how he felt, seeing how happy the little boy had been when he saw his dog made it worth the pain. However, his body wasn't necessarily agreeing with him. Flexing his arm caused a dull ache along his right shoulder, but he was thankful that it wasn't sharp pain. He'd had enough of that.

Deciding he'd procrastinated long enough, Sheppard unwrapped the small bar of hotel soap and lathered up, hoping the soap would take the smell of gasoline away. After washing his hair, he hesitated a bit longer, not wanting to leave the confines of the shower; finally, he stepped out. Grabbing a towel, he dried off, pulled a pair of track pants from his suitcase, and called Carson as he slipped on the pants.

Carson arrived within a couple of minutes, carrying his med kit. "Laddie, I think we need to stop meeting like this." The doctor motioned for Sheppard to lie down on the bed, which he did reluctantly.

Spreading out his supplies, Carson cut the now wet bandage from Sheppard's arm and disinfected the wound. "Definitely need stitches, John; this is a jagged cut, pretty deep in some areas. I'm going to numb the area first, then…oh bloody hell, I don't need to tell you the process, do I?"

Sheppard chuckled, "No…you don't."

"Just lie still, this won't take too long. Now tell me, how bad is the shoulder?"

"Not bad, I purposely landed on my right side to keep from falling on the dog, just hit pretty hard. Shoulder's sore but no sharp pains."

"You're still recuperating from the gun shot wound, John, and you've had some set backs to your recovery. I'm not certain I feel comfortably with you rock climbing or doing anything strenuous for a few more days. I wasn't happy about the skiing."

"Come on, doc; I'm fine."

"Oh...like I haven't heard that before."

Neither spoke again until Carson finished closing the wound. As Carson wrapped self-adhesive gauze around his forearm to secure the bandage, he teased, an impish grin crossing his face, "Took twelve stitches; don't tell Rodney, he'll be jealous."

Sheppard sat up, "My lips are sealed, doc."

"Now, sit up and let me look at that shoulder." Carson ran his fingers over the muscles of Sheppard's shoulder, and upper arm. "You have a sizeable and nasty bruise developing on your shoulder, but nothing appears broken or out of place. I'm going to give you a mild pain…"

"No…you're not; I'll take three Advil, nothing else."

"John…"

"No."

"Alright…Advil it is but I'm leaving these two pain pills just in case."

"Hang on, we need reservations for dinner, let me call." He called the dining room and made reservations for 8:00 pm. "Carson, could you let the others know dinner is at 8? I'm going to take a nap; meet you guys in the lounge around 7:30."

Carson gathered up his medical kit, "Will do, laddie; I think getting some rest is a good idea, going to take a nap myself. See you in the lounge."

Carson pulled the door shut behind him, and Sheppard sank down on the bed, quickly falling asleep.

~ooOoo~

The dark oak paneled lounge was nearly empty when Sheppard walked inside, around twenty minutes to eight, and spotted Rodney and Carson sitting in comfortable chairs near the windows. He walked over to the bar, ordered a Glenfiddich neat, then joined his friends.

"Laddie, did you have a good nap?" Carson was grinning, his eyes a tiny bit glassy.

Sheppard sat down in one of the upholstered chairs, "Yeah, guess the day caught up with me." He took a sip of his drink, relishing the taste of the smooth amber liquid, "Where's Ronon?"

Rodney pointed toward the veranda, "He's been out there since we came in; he's totally obsessed by the view. Carson tried to get him to come in, but he wouldn't budge."

"Let him be, this trip has opened a few old wounds for Ronon. He's figuring out how to reconcile all this new stuff compared to what he lost."

Carson downed his scotch, and motioned for the server to bring him another. "I find it difficult to deal with some of this," he threw his arm around the room. "This culture is very different from the culture I grew up in."

Sheppard slouched down in the cushy chair, "Carson…you live in a really different culture now; everything is different for all of us."

Rodney was gazing around the room, "I'm glad that those disgusting stuffed animal heads are not hanging in here or in the rooms as well. All those damn antlers in the lobby give me the creeps."

"I don't like them either." Sheppard added, "My dad had a hunting lodge in Minnesota; he used to take his business cronies up there. I refused to go; hunting for food was one thing, hunting to feel macho…not for me." Sheppard downed the remainder of his scotch and called for another as well.

Carson smiled, "Now I see why you didn't want a strong pain pill."

"Yeah, this works better, and keeps my head clearer." Grinning he added, "At least, as long as I don't have as many as you've had."

"Cheeky bugger."

Rodney asked, "I heard someone say that this place is booked a year or more in advance. How did you get us in here?"

"Called an old acquaintance of my father's who owed me a favor; his son enlisted in the Air Force and got into trouble, I got him out of it. The father is now high up in the Department of the Interior; he called and got four rooms for us. Actually, it's near the end of tourist season; probably didn't need his help but didn't want to take a chance."

"Laddie, we didn't bump anyone from these rooms, did we?" Carson's brogue was noticeably thicker with each scotch he consumed.

"Nah, they always keep rooms ready for VIPs…so I guess we qualify as VIPs…at least for the next couple of days. Besides, doesn't appear the entire hotel is booked."

Rodney looked at his watch, "It's almost eight, dinner?"

Sheppard picked up his second drink, "Dinner…I'll go get Ronon and meet you in the dining room."

The dining room was paneled in the same dark wood as the rest of the lodge, a large stone fireplace dominating the room. The four men ordered dinner and spent the next couple of hours enjoying a good meal. They returned to the bar until a bit after midnight, when they agreed it had been a long day and decided to call it a night.

~ooOoo~

_Day 2 – Early Morning_

Dawn's light filtered into Sheppard's room, awakening him around 0600 hours. Gingerly, he stretched, his body aching from the prior day's events. Despite his desire to go back to sleep, he decided he had slept enough. What he needed was coffee, and he knew exactly where to find some. The concierge had told them that coffee was always available in the second-floor lobby. Forcing himself to get out of bed, he attended to his morning routine, dressed, and left his room.

After helping himself to a cup of coffee, he wandered down to the veranda off the bar to watch the sunrise over the canyon. Dense fog hovered over the canyon rim and there was a slight nip in the air; he zipped up the sweater jacket he was wearing and walked to the stone barrier along the rim.

"What are you doing up at sunrise?"

Sheppard spun around to discover McKay sitting in one of the veranda's wooden rocking chairs, a hotel blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "McKay, what are you doing up?

"I'm always up early. Shouldn't you and Ronon be running or something?"

"Ronon discovered tequila last night…I imagine he's sleeping in." Sheppard dropped into the rocker next to McKay, who had his laptop with him. "What are you doing, and don't tell me you're working."

McKay slammed the laptop shut, "No…I'm not working on anything."

A slight half-grin crossed Sheppard's face, "Yeah, not working." He took a drink of coffee. "Gorgeous out here, isn't it?"

It's nature and it's outdoors, I…," Rodney shrugged, "Yes...it's gorgeous; but that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather be back on Atlantis."

"Didn't think it did; but are you having fun, Rodney?"

McKay leaned his head against the rocker, "Fun…if you call getting kidnapped, shot, sunburned, drunk, tied-up, and dunked numerous times in a lake fun, then I am most definitely having fun."

Sheppard scoffed, "How do you really feel?" When Rodney didn't reply, Sheppard coaxed, "Really, are you that miserable?"

"What does it matter? I'm stuck until those goons get out of my city."

"You can go home if you want."

McKay sat up straight, "Seriously…you'd let me go home?"

"Yes, if you are that miserable being on vacation with us, you can go back. I'll arrange for you to return to San Francisco today."

Sheppard waited for McKay to answer; the longer the silence, the more he was convinced that the scientist really didn't want to leave.

"Come on, Rodney; yes or no, do you want to go back to San Francisco? If you do, I need to make some calls."

"Damn you…"

Sheppard didn't reply; he waited patiently for McKay to continue.

"Okay, no I don't want to go back, not right now. You're still recuperating and we both know that Carson and Ronon would get in a lot of trouble without me here if something happened to you." Sheppard didn't say anything. Glancing at him, McKay continued, "I mean...it's been weeks since we left so the damage is already done, and I have to admit, Zelenka's done okay in keeping things under control."

"You're really having fun, aren't you?

"No, I just think you need me here. Look at what happened yesterday, you and Ronon running into that burning trailer and you nearly getting killed rescuing that dog."

"I believe I saw you on top of that trailer as well, helping rescue the mother, appears you risked your life, too. So admit it, you're having fun."

"No, I'm not…I'm just going to stay here to make certain you guys are okay."

"You can't deny it, you've had fun…Celine Dion…if I remember correctly, you really enjoyed seeing her." Sheppard's voice had taken on a more teasing tone.

"I'm not the one who keeps bringing up that blue dress, flyboy. You liked her, too."

Sheppard started laughing, "See, buddy…we've had some fun times, remember those and don't sweat the other stuff. You with me?" Before Rodney could reply, Sheppard's phone rang; it was Carson.

Hanging up, Sheppard said, "Carson and Ronon are waiting for us in the lobby, Ronon's apparently ravenous after drinking all that tequila last night."

As they headed into the lodge, Sheppard said, "By the way, I think I'll call Zelenka and tell him you said he'd done a great job."

"You do and I'll deny it."

Sheppard laughed, "Come on, let's get breakfast, we're going to take a helo tour of the canyon today; should be fun. First, however, gotta call Zelenka."

As Sheppard entered the lodge, he began dialing his phone. Behind him, he could hear Rodney whining about calling Zelenka. He grinned, this was going to be a great day.

_End of Day One and Beginning of Day 2_

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed…next day's adventure soon!_

**Note:** Mr. D'z Route 66 Diner, the Route 66 Museum, Flintstone's Bedrock City, and the El Tovar Lodge are all real establishments, Google for pictures.


	9. Part Five: The Wild Wild West…Day 2

**Title:** **Road Trip **

**Sub-title: _Part Five: The Wild Wild West…Day 2 _**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: ** Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and Whump, of course

**Word Count: **Part Five: Day 2 8,172

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five

**Warnings:** Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **Their second day in the Grand Canyon….just a typical day for our boys.

I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter of Road Trip. Between work, a continuing problem with my wrist and trying to write a novel…I've been swamped. For all of you who sent messages, thanks for doing so, you prompted me back to this story. FYI, the next segment is underway, so I promise not to be as tardy in posting again. I will take them through all thirty-plus days of leave.

Thanks again for continuing to read Road Trip; I really appreciate it.

* * *

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

_**Part Five: The Wild Wild West…Day 2**_

"Where the hell is he?"

Sheppard absently tapped the steering wheel of the Rover, impatiently waiting for Rodney McKay to join them; he didn't respond to Beckett's question.

Ronon grabbed the door handle, "I'll go get him." As he started to get out of the SUV, Sheppard grabbed his arm.

"No…no need to go after him, I set the time a half-hour early; he's not late, just aggravating."

Beckett chortled, "John…you certainly have more patience with Rodney than anyone else does."

Sheppard leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, "I've had a lot of practice developing patience with McKay; you get used to it."

"You should still let me go get him," Ronon snarked.

"If he's not here in five minutes, you can do just that."

Four minutes later, Rodney exited the hotel. Ronon shrugged, settling back in his seat, "There goes my fun for the morning."

Rodney slid into the back seat, looking around to see three pairs of eyes staring at him; he stammered, "What…what?"

Ronon muttered, "You're late."

Before Rodney could reply, Beckett remarked, "That's not his biggest problem. Where the hell did you get that shirt? Is that what took you so long, trying to decide what to wear?"

Rodney looked down at the light purple shirt he was wearing over a white t-shirt. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

Sheppard started the Rover's engine and pulled away from the curb. "I think it might be the squiggly lines and, seriously, are those strands of pearls painted on?"

"No…it's just a design…and really, you guys are no fashion plates, so bite me."

Beckett teased, "Ooh…you certainly are testy this morning; did you eat enough breakfast?"

Sheppard answered, "Were you paying attention, Carson? I think he ate more than Ronon. He's just being Rodney…by the way, Zelenka says hi, McKay."

"You…you didn't call him…tell…tell me you didn't call him."

Grinning broadly at the obvious anguish in McKay's voice, Sheppard replied, "Yes…I did; he was quite flattered that you thought he had done such an excellent job."

McKay's shoulders slumped and his head dropped against the headrest, "Crap…I'm so screwed."

Sheppard left the hotel parking lot and headed for the Grand Canyon Airport, which was just south of Tusayan. Twenty minutes later, they turned onto the main airport road and parked next to the Papillion Grand Canyon Helicopter terminal.

Hopping out of the Rover, Sheppard motioned toward a sleek red helicopter sitting on the flight line, "Pretty sure that one's ours."

The four men entered the terminal where they filled out paperwork and provided ID. The agent then gave them a quick overview of the tour, instructed them on safety issues, finally directing them to the helicopter pad, where their pilot, a stocky man around fifty, waited for them.

"Hey guys, welcome to Papillion Grand Canyon tours; I'm Bill MacMurray, and I'll be your pilot today."

Sheppard stuck out his hand as he made introductions, "Bill…John Sheppard, Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, and Carson Beckett."

The pilot smiled, "Good to meet you guys. Is this the first time you've flown in a helicopter?"

Sensing his friends looking at him, Sheppard replied, "No, we've all been in a helo before, we're ready to go."

"Then let's get going; hop on in the cockpit and get those seat belts on."

As the pilot ran through his pre-flight inspection of the helicopter's exterior, Carson

asked, "What kind of craft is this, John?"

"It's an EcoStar EC130 B4, made by Eurocopter; it was designed specifically for tourism, hence the large cockpit and the stadium seating. Some police departments are using it for surveillance because of the large windows, and it's used for medical transport as well."

"It's also quiet," Rodney remarked.

Sheppard, sitting alongside Ronon in the two center seats, glanced back at Rodney, who was sitting next to the port window in the four-seat row behind him. "How do you know that?"

"The tail-rotor is shrouded and it has at least eight blades; they probably have variable angular spacing, which distributes the noise over different frequencies. Therefore, it's quieter."

"Good, Rodney, exactly right; the rotor on a Eurocopter is called a Fenestron, and they developed the quieter ride for tourism."

Bill finished his inspection of the outer hull of the helicopter and slipped into the front seat as Rodney was talking, "John, is it?" Sheppard nodded, and Bill continued, "Sounds like you guys know a few things about these birds; military?" The pilot commenced his pre-flight instrument checklist as he waited for Sheppard to answer.

"I'm active duty; my friends are civilian contractors, and yeah...I've flown a few helos."

"I pegged you for a bus driver, am I right?"

Sheppard chuckled, "How do you figure that?"

Bill laughed, "You'd never get by in the Navy with that haircut."

"I don't actually get by with it in the Air Force, but I've usually pissed off the brass about so many other things they forget."

"My kind of pilot; well, you guys sit back and let a Navy boy show you around."

Finishing his checklist, Bill pressed the engine starter button, "Okay, guys, make sure you're strapped in and put your headsets on; we're about to take off." He fiddled with more gauges, then satisfied all was ready, grabbed the throttle and the Eco-Star lifted off into the crystal clear blue sky.

"We'll be heading over the rim pretty quickly, so keep a look out. You'll be hearing a recorded narrator who will explain what you're seeing. Enjoy."

Only a few minutes ticked past before the helicopter surged across the south rim of the canyon, and the ground beneath them evaporated. Despite all that Sheppard had experienced, the sensation of the ground literally vanishing under his feet was breathtaking.

He glanced over at Ronon, not surprised to see the Satedan peering intently out the window, taking in the sights unfolding below them. Bill banked the helicopter and descended into the canyon, the craggy rock walls providing a sense of proportion over the vastness.

During the next forty minutes, they flew around the majestic canyon, over the Little Colorado River's confluence with the Colorado River. The narrow tributary, pale muddy brown from recent cloudbursts, flowed into the emerald-green Colorado River. Through their headsets, the narrator explained that sediment trapped by the Glen Canyon Dam caused the brilliant green tint to the river. They passed through the Dragon Corridor, the widest and deepest area of the Canyon, over the Kaibab Plateau along the North Rim, and other amazing sights before returning to the airport.

Once the rotors stopped, they hopped out of the Eco-Star; Sheppard walked around to the pilot-side cabin door. He held out his hand to Bill, who had just stepped onto the ground,

"Hell of a flight; thanks."

"Glad you enjoyed; I tell you, as many times as I made that run, I still marvel at the sight. It never gets old and each time, the sky is different, the light's different, cloudy, sunny…it's always beautiful."

"I can only imagine; I also imagine the updrafts are tricky."

"You could say that, let's just say, I don't do a lot of sightseeing."

"I noticed; pretty good flying for a postage stamp driver."

Bill laughed, "Touché...but we've had fun, haven't we?"

Sheppard nodded in agreement; he spoke a few minutes more with MacMurray before he headed toward the Rover where his friends were waiting. Beckett handed him a bottle of cold water.

"Here laddie; you need to rehydrate after all that flying about."

Taking a gulp of water, Sheppard motioned for his friends to get in the Rover. As they were exiting the airport, Sheppard asked, "So, you guys have fun?"

"Aye, laddie; that was…amazing, I knew from seeing pictures of the Grand Canyon that it was beautiful, but I had no idea how breathtaking it would be."

Rodney spoke, "I never cared much for geology, but seeing all those layers of rock and all those formations, well…it looks more interesting in the field. I have to say, I thought my stomach was going to leap out of my throat when we crossed over the rim."

Beckett agreed, "Aye...my stomach is still fluttering."

Ronon slumped in his seat, not speaking since they exited the helicopter. Sheppard hesitated to interrupt the Satedan's thoughts, but then asked casually, "Hey, Chewie, what was your favorite part of the flight?"

"Everything, your planet is full of incredible sights. I've been on a lot of planets, really hot ones, some so cold I could barely get to the DHD to dial back out before I froze, mountainous or desert, but never seen anything as amazing as this."

Sheppard flashed a half-grin, "I hear you; it's certainly magnificent in a stark and powerful way."

Beckett asked, "John…I take it that pilot had been in the Navy?" Sheppard nodded, and the doctor continued, "I was wondering why he called you a bus driver and why you called him a…what was it…?"

"A postage stamp driver…," Sheppard answered.

"Why did you call each other those things?"

"Well, 'driver' means pilot in military slang. The Navy thinks that our dress blues look like the suits bus drivers wear, so they call us bus drivers. We call Navy pilots postage stamp drivers, because from altitude, the aircraft carriers look as small as postage stamps."

"Terms of endearment, I take it," Beckett commented, grinning as he spoke.

Grinning back, Sheppard said, "Yeah, you could say so. Bill's an excellent pilot; the wind currents and updrafts in that canyon can be brutal. It was a good flight."

"Aye, that it was and I got some good pictures; especially, one of Rodney looking scared as we crossed the rim."

"I was not scared, just surprised when the ground disappeared."

"You were scared, Rodney," Beckett snickered, 'look at the picture."

"I told you…I was not scared."

Sheppard relaxed against his seat, as he listened to Rodney and Carson's bickering, something they did so well. They'd be at the hotel in a short time, might as well let them bicker until then.

~ooOoo~

As the Rover came to a halt in the hotel parking lot, Sheppard broached the subject of what they would do for the remainder of the day. "So, I'd like to go hiking down one of the trails this afternoon, who's with me?"

McKay blurted out, "Down one of those steep trails? No way, I'm doing that."

Ronon snarled, "You climb trails all the time, what's wrong with you?"

McKay harrumphed, "That's different; I have to do that when on missions. I don't have to here, and I'm not going to."

"Rodney, you don't have to do any hiking…you can do whatever you want to do." Sheppard hopped out of the Rover, "Me…I'm gonna hike; Ronon, Carson, any takers?"

Ronon immediately said yes, but Beckett hesitated, glancing from Sheppard to Rodney, "John, I think I'll keep Rodney company if it's okay with you."

"Fine with me, doc, but I kind of expected you'd like to hike. Didn't you do a lot of mountain climbing in Scotland?"

Beckett flashed a soft grin and nodded, "Yes, laddie; I did, as a wee lad. As an adult, I tried to avoid it like the plague."

"Fair enough; let's go see the tour desk and see what's available."

Heading for the El Tovar, they cut across a small patch of grass on the edge of the parking lot, and McKay tripped over a large stone. Ronon grabbed him, keeping McKay from falling on his face. The Satedan grunted, "Watch where you're going, little man."

McKay jerked his arm away, looking down at the ground, "That…that's not a rock…it's a grave marker. What the hell is a grave doing in the middle of the parking lot?"

Sheppard started walking toward the hotel entrance, "Probably someone who whined all the time and his friends got tired of it."

"Sheppard…bite me." McKay brushed past Sheppard, stalking toward the hotel, while Ronon and Beckett snickered and followed.

After Sheppard and Ronon made reservations to join a hiking tour and Beckett talked McKay into a bike tour of the canyon rim, McKay announced he was hungry.

"Rodney, how can you be hungry?"

"I'm hungry Sheppard, there is no how to it; let's go get lunch." McKay turned and headed into the restaurant, Beckett following him.

Ronon slapped Sheppard on the shoulder, "Come on; I could eat."

Forty minutes later, Sheppard was finishing the last bite of his BLT club sandwich as he listened to Rodney chattering about the history of the Grand Canyon.

"I was reading about the Ancient Pueblo People; they were the first Native American culture in the canyon. What's cool, is that they are referred sometimes as Anaszi, it's Navajo for "ancient ones." He took a big bite from his chicken sandwich, then mumbled, "Isn't that cool, like our Ancients."

"Rodney, hush," Sheppard whispered sternly.

"What, no one heard me."

"No, just the entire dining room, no more talking about…about those people. How do you even know that? You don't strike me as someone who cares about early North American history."

"I Google'd Grand Canyon this morning…found a Wikipedia article, then just kept clicking on the links." He took a drink of iced tea, "It's fascinating how much data there is online."

Sheppard exchanged glances with Carson and Ronon, "Now we know why he was late this morning."

"Yeah, well, flyboy, you are the one dragging us to all of these places that we haven't been to, so expect some history lessons."

Ronon leaned forward, "So, McKay, what's the Hopi House?"

"Hopi House…I have no idea."

Beckett bobbed his head, a snarky grim on his face, "Mr. Know-It-All, doesn't know everything. Rodney, have you noticed that large adobe building sitting on the edge of the parking lot, near the Rim?"

Rodney looked perplexed, "That ugly tan building?"

"You bugger, it's not ugly, and for your information, the building is a replica of a Hopi Indian building, was designed and built by Mary Jane Colter around 1905. She designed a lot of building in the Canyon, even decorated the hotel. The building housed Hopi artisans, who sold their crafts to tourists. Today, it's a museum for Native American crafts, and has a gift shop."

McKay stared at Beckett, "How did you know that?"

"Sorry to break it to you, McKay, but you apparently aren't the only well-informed person at this table," Sheppard snarked, motioning to their server to bring the check. A couple of minutes later she handed Sheppard the bill, which Carson promptly snatched out his hand. Sheppard scowled at the doctor, asking the group, "We haven't been to the Hopi House, how 'bout we go over there now? We've got about an hour before our hiking tour starts."

The Hopi House was a short walk along the rim wall from the hotel. The early afternoon sun gleamed onto the dark golden-umber stained walls of the mud-covered structure. Crowds of people lined the rim wall, as others streamed in and out of the Hopi House; they joined the queue of tourists entering the museum.

Beckett and Ronon ducked as they crossed the threshold of the narrow, low doorway into the first floor gift shop. McKay, however, turned to say something to Sheppard and ran smack into the top of the doorframe.

"Damn it, what the hell…?"

Struggling not to laugh, Sheppard replied, "Hey, watch where you're going." After a cursory look to make certain McKay didn't appear hurt, he continued, "Really,

Rodney…you're a klutz."

Frowning, McKay rubbed his head, where a red mark was appearing, "I didn't know the stupid door was so short."

Beckett had rushed over, and checked McKay out, "You're okay, Rodney; just a little booboo." McKay's face puffed up, turning red, but he didn't offer Beckett a retort. He walked past Beckett and headed inside.

The interior consisted of mud-covered walls, stained the same color as the exterior. Smooth support timbers dotted the floor; the ceiling thatched with narrow twigs in a timber framework. Display shelves holding pottery of beiges, tans and browns, some accented with blues, lavenders, and greens dye, woven rugs, jewelry, and other native artifacts awaited purchase.

The friends headed in different directions viewing the merchandise. Sheppard caught up with Ronon about ten minutes later; the big man was standing in front of a pottery display, unaware he was as much of a tourist attraction as the native crafts. A six-foot-six muscular man with dreadlocks wasn't going to blend in with the crowd; several tourists were taking his picture. Sheppard imagined the tourist suspected his friend was a Native American. He chuckled to himself; the term for Native American warriors, 'Brave,' certainly fit Ronon. If he was anything, Ronon Dex was brave.

Ronon glanced at Sheppard, "This pottery…it looks like stuff Teyla's people would make."

Sheppard picked up a round, lidded vessel, remembering the Athosian pottery he had given Elizabeth Weir for her birthday, many years before. He whispered, "Yeah, it does resemble the work of her people. Dr. Cramer from SGC archeology department once told us much of our mannerisms, likes, dislikes are contained within the genes handed down to us. If the Ancients seeded the universe, he said it would make sense that many cultures would deliver similar objects, beliefs systems and the like, but with unique differences. He said it would explain why we find familiar objects and societies wherever we explore."

"We're all the same, no matter where we come from."

"Yeah, something like that."

"I want to buy a piece of this pottery for Teyla."

Sheppard turned the pottery he was holding over to look at the base, "We need to go upstairs where the artisan stuff is, this was made in Indonesia; it's not the real deal; come on."

Leading Ronon up the narrow staircase, they found the merchandise on the upper floor to be of much higher quality. Ronon picked out a piece of pottery, along with some beaded jewelry, while Sheppard examined a selection of native rugs. After paying for their purchases, they exited the Hopi House and waited for Beckett and McKay outside. They were sitting on a low concrete structure outside the front door, when their two friends emerged laden with shopping bags. Sheppard saw several dream-catchers emerging from one of Beckett's bags.

"It's about time you got here; we have about twenty minutes to join the tours." Sheppard stood up and turned toward the hotel, "Just enough time to take this stuff to the rooms." The rest of his team followed.

~ooOoo~

McKay and Beckett hopped off the shuttle bus at Hopi Point, where the guided bicycle tour was to start. The tour representatives equipped them with bikes, helmets, and safety vests.

The guide, a young woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, spoke to the group of about fifteen bikers, a few retirees, a couple of families with small children, Beckett and McKay rounding out the group. "The biking trail starts here at Hopi Point on the historic Hermit's Rest Road, one of the best views of the canyon's inner gorge. The road, originally built by the Santa Fe Railroad, winds around the canyon rim for miles offering some of the grandest views along the South Rim. Now, we are going to take a leisurely pace as we head down the road. Stay together and use your bike horns if you need to get my attention for any reason. We will stop periodically to take advantage of the beautiful vistas." Hopping on her bike, the guide said, "Okay, everyone…put your helmets on and let's go for a ride."

Beckett was strapping on his helmet as he watched McKay, who had mounted his bike, wobble as he fought to get his balance. "Rodney, tell me…you do know how to ride a bike?"

"Of course I know how to ride a bike," McKay muttered as he quickly dropped his left foot to keep from falling over. "It's just been a while, now leave me alone." He managed to get his bike stabilized, but the overprotective Beckett slid in behind him as the guide led them down the path along the rim.

~ooOoo~

The other Atlantians disembarked at Hermit's Point, about 500 feet west was the Hermit trailhead, their destination. Sheppard and Ronon had changed into boots and grabbed a couple of canteens from the Rover before they left the hotel. Sheppard was strapping his canteen to his belt when the tour guide approached, handing them walking sticks.

"Hey, you guys look like you've done this before."

Sheppard smiled wryly, "Yep…we've done bit of hiking."

The guide nodded, ""You two take the lead; I'll follow with the slower folk. Just don't get too far ahead of us, okay?"

"Not a problem, thanks." Sheppard motioned for Ronon to follow, and they headed for the trailhead, the guide and his group on their six.

Ronon growled, "Do I have to use these sticks?"

"Yeah, will keep the guide happy; besides I think this trail gets a bit tricky in places." He held up one of the sticks, "This will help you keep your balance."

The view was breathtaking, as they began their descent the path was wide and well marked; occasionally, loose rocks scattered across the trail. Sheppard and Ronon had decided on hiking the Dripping Springs Trail, where conditions were tougher than the Bright Angel and South Kaibab Trails.

As they descended further from the trailhead, the path quickly became narrower, sometimes less than a foot of room between the edge and the rock face. Loose rock made the footing treacherous and once Ronon slipped, causing Sheppard a moment of panic.

"Ronon, damn it; don't fall over the edge. I don't want to do some daring rescue; we've had enough of that shit."

"Sheppard, I'm not gonna fall. How far did you say we were going?"

"About 3.5 miles to Dripping Springs, then back again."

"Not very far."

Chuckling, Sheppard replied, "Yeah, well, Chewy….not enough time to hike all the way to the canyon floor, and camp overnight. I'd like to have done that, but we still have a lot to see; can't stay here forever."

'We could."

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind that either."

"Don't believe that Sheppard; one word we could go home, and you'd be out of here."

Sheppard stopped and faced his friend, "In a heartbeat, Ronon, in a heartbeat."

~ooOoo~

Rodney was huffing a bit but keeping up with the group. They had traveled nearly two miles, when the guide halted them to point out the Abyss. The group got off their bikes and walked toward the rim's edge. The guide walked ahead of them and then addressed the group.

"This lookout is called the Abyss; most lookouts on the South Rim are promontories, but this one is an indentation. From here you get a real feel for the depth of the Grand Canyon; in front of you is only air, with a sheer 3000' drop to the Tonto Platform, a wide sandstone terrace about two-thirds of the way down. I suggest that if you are afraid of heights that you don't get very close to the edge. Parents, please keep control of your children; we don't want any accidents."

McKay and Beckett hopped off their bikes, McKay taking a long swig of water from the bottle he'd tucked in the bike holder. "It's getting hot out here."

"It's a bit hot, Rodney, but it's a beautiful day; just look at that sky, dark blue with fluffy white clouds. Reminds me of a gorgeous sunny day in Scotland, the clear sky, fresh air…ah…lovely."

"It's never this hot in Scotland," Rodney lamented, removing his sunglasses and wiping sweat from his brow.

"Aye, that might be true, but it's every bit as beautiful. Let's go have a look at the Abyss."

The friends walked to the edge of the lookout, not speaking for a few minutes as they took in the breathtaking view, before them lay the craggy peaks and walls of the canyon, bathed in luminescent light. Striations in the rock provided a history of the geology of the canyon, yet managed to resemble a work of art rather than a statement of science.

Rodney whispered almost reverently, "That…that's stunning."

"Aye that it is…"

"Carson, this morning John told me I could go back to San Francisco if I wanted."

Beckett sucked in a breath, "Are you going to go back?"

McKay gazed around the canyon, "No, and I 'm glad I decided not to take John's offer. I would have missed this."

Beckett smiled, squeezing McKay's shoulder, "I wouldn't trade this trip for anything. The chance to spend time with my best friends…my second-chance…is priceless." McKay nodded and Beckett said, "Now go stand on that rock, and I'll get your picture."

McKay whined, "I not getting near that edge."

"Rodney, don't be a jessie…get on the rock."

"Jessie…what did you call me?"

"I called you a jessie, it's a Scottish word for wuss; now stand on that rock."

Reluctantly, McKay stood on the rock, but as soon as Beckett snapped his picture, he retreated from the rim. Beckett asked Rodney to take a picture of him on the point, then took several pictures of the view. About ten minutes later, the guide gathered them for the next leg of their trip, Pima Point.

~ooOoo~

Sheppard and Ronon had managed to get further ahead of the tour than they had intended, so they stopped for a bit for the group to catch up. Ronon was sitting cross-legged on the trail, as Sheppard sat on a rock next to a large brambly bush, prickly cactus plants surrounding the area.

Stretching his long legs across the trail, Sheppard squinted in the mid-afternoon sun. Despite his sunglasses, the brilliant glare was blinding, ''It's hot and bright out here," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I like it."

Ronon's voice was low, and Sheppard pulled his gaze from the canyon to look at Ronon. The Satedan was staring at something along the trail; tracking to the spot Ronon was fixated on, Sheppard laughed, "Cute lizard."

"There was a time when that lizard would have been my dinner."

"Well, not any longer, at least here…I'll buy you a steak tonight at the hotel, no lizard."

"That's a deal, Sheppard…and more tequila."

Sheppard chuckled loudly, scaring the lizard, who scurried away, "And more tequila, Chewie." Glancing up the trail, he spotted the rest of their group, "Come on, they're catching up with us, time to move."

The trail became a bit more treacherous in some areas, and Sheppard decided to hold back, in case one of the other hikers needed assistance, realizing not all the group was experienced. Eventually, they came to their destination, Dripping Springs.

A wider path led them to an alcove where the spring that gave a name to the trail was located. Glistening water dripped from the rock wall forming the ceiling of the alcove, falling into a small pool below. Verdant plants grew along the ceiling edge, and surrounded the water reservoir. The guide cautioned them not to drink the water unless it was treated, filtered, or boiled before consuming. Nearby, a small shelter with benches where the hikers could escape the hot sun quickly filled with tired hikers.

Sheppard untied his outer shirt he had wrapped around his waist earlier, and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. As he tugged his sweaty grey t-shirt away from his chest, he puffed, "Even my jeans are soaked…hotter than it looks out here."

When Ronon didn't answer, Sheppard looked around to see the Satedan had walked further down the trail to an area where he could see into a gorge. Sheppard joined him and so did their guide.

"You know, as many times as I've led hikers down this trail, I swear I've never gotten over the impact of seeing these views. Ever seen anything more beautiful?"

The image of Atlantis sitting on New Lantia's ocean immediately filled Sheppard's mind, but he shook his head, "Hard to think of any where the scenery would be better than this."

The guide nodded in agreement, "We're going to rest here for about twenty minutes, then head back up the trail. There's some weather coming in early this evening, so I want to get everyone back on the rim in plenty of time to get back to their lodging." One of the other hikers yelled out a question to the guide and he took off.

"He's right...we should rest a bit," reaching into his jeans' pocket Sheppard pulled out a couple of trail bars he picked up at the hotel gift shop when he bought water to fill up their canteens. "Here, we'll probably need the energy on the way back." They found a couple of flat rocks in the shade of a line of trees near the pool, and relaxed.

~ooOoo~

McKay and Beckett were riding side by side, at the rear of the group. They were not cycling at a high rate of speed due to the children, who were along, which appeared to please Rodney.

Beckett glance over at his friend who was sweating, "Well, I think you're going to sweat off a few pounds today."

"Har de har har, I might sweat it off, but I am going to eat like a pig tonight; I'm starving."

"Oh...that really surprises me, Rodney McKay is hungry. Don't worry, John gave me some trail mix bars, when we get to Pima Point we'll eat them."

"I'd like mine now."

"No, just drink your water."

They rode on, stopping occasionally stopping to take a quick look at another majestic view of the canyon. At the last stop, the guide told them that they would be at Pima Point in a few minutes. The cyclists leading the pack began to slow, when one of the children, a little boy around nine-years-old, lost control of his bike, veering directly into McKay's path. With no time to react, McKay slammed into the fallen bike, barely able to keep the tires from running over the child's legs. When the bikes collided, McKay tumbled over the handlebars, and landed in a grove of trees along the roadway.

"Rodney," Beckett jumped off his bike, letting it drop to the ground, and ran to his friend.

McKay was moaning, "What the hell…that kid just stopped…"

Beckett quickly look McKay over, "Can you move your arms and legs?'

"I don't know…"

"Well, try moving them…I'm going check on the boy."

Beckett raced over to the parents, who were attending to their son. The little guy was crying, his right arm and leg covered with abrasions. After making a cursory exam to determine if the boy had any broken bones, Beckett spoke to the guide, then returned to McKay.

Now sitting up, the scientist was rubbing his shoulder and upper arm, "I'm okay…skinned my arm up and my ankle, I think. How's the kid?"

"Scared but nothing appears broken, just banged and scraped up. The guide's getting her first-aid kit, so I can tend to both of you. Can you get up?"

"Yeah," McKay gingerly rose to his fee, "Yikes, my arm hurts."

"Well, you don't appear to have any broken bones either. We'll just get some antiseptic ointment on those scrapes and you'll have a story to tell John and Ronon."

"Oh lovely…another 'Rodney is a klutz' story. Why don't we just keep this to ourselves?"

"Come on, once I get you two patched up, we'll eat our power bars, and enjoy the view."

Beckett finished cleaning and dressing the worst of the boy's wound, and took care of McKay's. "Here's your snack," handing the bar to McKay, "let's walk over to the rim so that we can see this view."

"I'd rather sit," McKay mumbled, his mouth full of power bar.

"No, moving around is good for you, keep your muscles from getting stiff."

They walked along the curving pathway to the rim's edge, once again in awe of the view. Beckett pointed to the bottom of the canyon, "Look there's the river." From their altitude, the river appeared as a narrow silver strand winding its way though the canyon floor, "Beautiful."

They leaned on the metal railing for a while, chewing on their power bars. It was late afternoon, and the sun was turning the rock faces of the eastern canyon walls an amber-gold color. Both men were quiet; taking in the view, Beckett taking pictures, when the guide walked up.

"Hey, guys," she stopped, "Can you hear that?" The faint sound of water splashing reached their ears, "That's the Granite Rapids echoing up the canyon walls."

Beckett smiled, "That's cool."

She smiled, "Yes it is. We need to go on to Hermit's Rest. The injured boy's parents decided to wait for the next shuttle, so they are staying here. If you would like to as well, that's okay."

Before Rodney could answer, Beckett said, "No, we are going to meet our friends who are hiking at Hermit's Rest, so we'll go on."

"Then let's get on our bikes, we only have about a mile to go, and the route is along the greenway. Lot of trees, shade, a snack bar, gift shop, restrooms, and air conditioning; lot nicer than out here."

Beckett answered, "We're right behind you; come on, Rodney." McKay didn't argue.

~ooOoo~

It was hot, and although they were only about halfway back up the trail, Sheppard was almost out of water. He was sweating profusely but had to admit to himself that he was enjoying the hike. Since being shot in Vegas, he hadn't really had any physical activity other than a day or so of swimming, and it felt good expending energy.

Ronon was a few steps ahead of him, two young woman hikers between them. They decided to stay with their group hiking back up the trail. Most of their fellow hikers were in decent shape, but the strenuous climb was beginning to take its toll. The uphill portion of the hike was going to take at least twice as long as the downhill trek. Their guide stationed himself in the middle of the pack to keep an eye on a couple of hikers who were very tired, assigning one of the younger male hikers to the rear. They had crossed the halfway point when a group of boisterous hikers, without a guide, came into view.

The four young men were obviously having a good time. As they approached Ronon, the big man blocked their way. Ronon spoke, "You guys need to step aside until we pass."

One of the guys, stepped up, "Yeah, and why is that."

The tenor of Ronon's voice didn't change, but Sheppard saw his shoulders square and realized this was not going to be good. Quietly, Ronon said, "It's the rules, hikers going down the trail give way to hikers on the way up."

"Get out of my way old man, I'm going down."

Before Ronon could react, the guy pushed past Ronon and bumped into one of the young women in front of Sheppard, sending her stumbling. Sheppard reached out to grab her, but stepped on a loose rock and lost his balance. He felt his hand brush against the woman and pushed her toward the rock face. An attempt to stabilize himself with the walking sticks failed, and as he fell over the edge of the trail, he heard Ronon yell his name.

"Sheppard…," Ronon rushed to the spot where Sheppard went over, fear for his friend evident in his voice, "Sheppard…" Peering over the trail's edge, he uttered a relieved grunt. John Sheppard somehow managed to grab onto a scrubby bush growing out of the side of the rock face about five feet from the trail.

The problem was, Sheppard was only holding onto the brush with his left hand, one very sweaty, slippery hand. He looked up at Ronon, "Uh…buddy…could use some help."

Ronon turned around and laid down on the trail, the other hikers scattering as best they could to give him room, he extended his arm out, "Sheppard, reach up, I'll grab your hand."

"Okay," Sheppard tried to get a food planted against the wall, but the rock kept crumbling under his boot. He swung his arm up as hard as he could but Ronon was a few inches out of range. As he started to slide further over the edge in order to reach Sheppard, the guide stopped him.

"Hang on, I've almost got a rope ready, give me a couple of seconds. I'm gonna tie you off, then we'll lower you until you reach him. " The guide yelled for help; and two of the young men in their group as well as one from the new hikers, rushed to help.

Ronon looked over the edge, "Hang on buddy, just a second." As he was talking, he felt hands looping the rope through his belt.

The guide tapped him on the shoulder, "We've got you secure, and the rope is around a study rock. We'll hold onto as you lower yourself, okay?"

Ronon grunted yes, and began to slide over the edge, when he thought he was close enough, he told his friend, "Try it again, reach for my hand." Sheppard was struggling to hold onto the bush; his sweaty left hand slipped twice while Ronon was talking to him.

Sheppard once again used all his strength to swing his arm toward Ronon; this time, Ronon grabbed his forearm. Ronon's hand slid along his friend's sweat covered arm until he could grab onto his wrist; thankful Sheppard was wearing the leather cuff that he had given him. The narrow braided trim along the edges of the wide cuff gave Ronon just enough traction to a good grip.

Ronon stared at Sheppard, "Let go of the bush; I've got you."

Without hesitation, Sheppard did as Ronon instructed. Ronon yelled at the guide, "I've got him, pull us up."

The guide yelled for the men to pull and after what seemed like an eternity to Sheppard, he felt Ronon's arms across his chest pulling him onto the trail, then other arms pulling him away from Ronon, so that the big man could get up.

The guide knelt beside Sheppard, "You gave us a scare man, are you okay?"

Sheppard was attempting to get his breath, while trying to slow his heartbeat, "Yeah I think so…think I yanked every muscle in my back and shoulders out of place."

"Looks like you also messed up this wound…blood's seeping out from this bandage."

Looking down at the bandage on his left forearm, Sheppard groaned, "Carson's going to kill me."

The guide was reaching for his radio, "I'm calling for a med-evac to get you out of here."

"No…no, I'm fine; I can walk out."

The guide started to argue but Ronon intervened, "He can do this; I'll make sure of it."

"Okay…no evac but I'm calling paramedics to meet us on the trail. They can help you with him." He looked around, "Where the hell did those kids go?" One of the hikers replied that the four young men had headed back up the trail. "Looks like I need to contact the Park Police as well."

Ronon hunkered down next to Sheppard, "You sure you can do this?" A steely glare from Sheppard caused Ronon to laugh, "Yeah that's what I thought." Gently, he helped his friend to his feet.

The guide still looked skeptical but said, "Okay, notified everyone. Hikers we need to get back, base just told me that those clouds gathering to the west are going to turn into some nasty storms later, I want everyone safe where you belong by then. So let's go."

Ronon stood behind Sheppard and grabbed him by the belt, "I'm not letting go until we reach the top," and with a gentle nudge, they headed toward the rim.

~ooOoo~

"Oh thank goodness, we're here." McKay gingerly dismounted his bike, took off his helmet, safety vest, and turned them over to one of the bike tour people. "I am never going to do that again."

Carson followed suit, and they walked passed the stone archway with the Hermit's Rest sign on it and headed up the paved pathway to the gray stone building. Carson was pointing out the tall stone tower on top of the building when sirens cut through the late afternoon quiet. A Grand Canyon Park Rescue Unit passed them heading for the parking lot to the west of the structure.

"Someone must have gotten hurt on one of the trails," Carson observed.

McKay appeared pensive, "You don't think it's Sheppard or Ronon, do you?"

"Of course not, laddie, I'm sure they're fine. Let's go inside; I want to wash my face and get something cold to drink. John said they'd probably be about a half-hour or so behind us."

As they entered Hermit's Rest, three additional Park Police units arrived as well. As he crossed the threshold, McKay glanced once more toward the parking lot, his face reflecting concern.

Fifteen minutes later, Beckett and McKay exited the snack bar, eating ice cream bars. When he realized that the emergency vehicles were still in the parking lot, Beckett told Rodney, "I think I'll go check out what's happened; they might need a doctor."

"Can't be too bad, don't they airlift people out that are really injured?"

As they approached the trailhead, Park police officers emerged onto the trailhead with four young men in custody. Beckett walked over to an EMT who was waiting by the ambulance, leaving McKay by the railing next to the rim. The expression on Beckett's face when he returned told the suspicious scientist everything.

"Damnit, it is one of them, isn't it? I knew it...I knew it. Who's hurt Carson?"

Beckett blew out a deep breath, "Who do you think?" When McKay's face paled, he quickly added, "No…don't worry, he's not hurt badly, just some muscle strain and apparently he tore the stitches in his arm."

"What the hell happened?"

"Remember those boys we saw with the police?" McKay nodded, and Beckett continued,

"Well, the EMT said that they were hiking down the trail, when they came on John's group coming up. They were supposed to give the uphill hikers the right of way but decided they didn't want to; pushed their way past and knocked a girl over. John kept her from going over the edge but lost his balance."

"He fell over the fucking edge of the trail?"

"Rodney, calm down; he grabbed a bush and held on until Ronon could pull him up. He's walking up on his own, he's gonna be fine."

"Honestly, Carson; we need to wrap him in bubble wrap or something,"

Beckett chucked, patting McKay on the back, "That's actually not a bad idea for all of you. Relax, John's gonna be fine, EMT said they should be on the rim in about ten minutes."

McKay paced for most of the ten minutes, while Beckett waited near the trailhead. As soon as he spotted Sheppard, he yelled to Rodney, "They're here."

The two paramedics were flanking him with Ronon close, but Sheppard was walking on his own. When he spotted Beckett, he grimaced, "You're going to yell at me aren't you?"

Beckett shook his head, "No, laddie I'm not; we're just thankful you walked out of there on your own."

One of the paramedics asked, "You the doc that the colonel told us about?" When Beckett nodded, he continued, "Let's get him to the ambulance, and you can look him over. I think he's just banged up and gonna have some sore muscles, but that wound's gonna need attention."

"Sound like a plan; Rodney you stay with Ronon." Beckett started toward the ambulance but turned toward Ronon, "I heard you saved his life…again. He's lucky to have you around, and so are we."

Ronon and the guide spoke with the park police, then Ronon joined Rodney, who was waiting outside the ambulance. "He's okay?"

Rodney nodded, "Yeah I think so…I…Ronon…you…."

Ronon stared intently at Rodney, "No need..."

While they waited, the young woman, who Sheppard saved, along with the male hiker who had been in the rear of the group, approached the ambulance, and spoke to Sheppard.

"That the girl he saved?" Ronon grunted yes, and McKay added, "Nice of her to check on him."

Beckett hopped out of the ambulance a few minutes later, helping Sheppard out, "We can go back to the hotel. I'll take care of that arm when we get there. Does anyone know when the next shuttle runs?"

Ronon shook his head, "We've got a ride, the Park Police said they'd take us back to the hotel." Ronon motioned for them to follow, and they got into a police SUV cruiser for the journey back to El Tovar.

~ooOoo~

The room was dark with intermittent flashes of light that apparently had awakened him. Sheppard struggled for a few minutes before he realized that the rumbling in his head was actually thunder. Mentally he took stock of his situation; he was in the hotel and he was lying in bed, naked. Vaguely, he remembered returning to his room, taking a hot shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and Carson working on his arm, then darkness. Stretching out his limbs, he felt a twinge of soreness but realized that the grogginess and slight feeling of euphoria were the result of the injection of pain medication Beckett had given him. As he slowly became lucid, he decided he was hungry.

Throwing the covers off, he sat up, a bit gingerly, wondering how much he would be hurting if he hadn't had the pain meds. He was hurting enough. Easing out of bed, he stumbled over the towel he'd discarded, and padded to the bathroom, not needing to turn on the light due to the lightning flashing through the window. He washed his hands and then his face, and headed back to the bed. His cell phone was lying on the bedside table, blinking; he had a message.

_"John, it's Carson. When you wake-up, laddie, if you feel like joining us, we're on the terrace. Ordered dinner for you; there's a turkey club on the table. Call when you wake up."_

Looking over at the table, he spotted a tray and quickly crossed the room. After taking about three large bites of his sandwich, he rummaged for a clean pair of jeans. As he slipped them on, he called Carson.

"Hey, doc, you still downstairs?"

"We are; if you're up to it, come join us. Mother Nature is putting on some kind of light show."

"Yeah, I can tell from here; be right down."

"Need some help?"

"No, I'm okay. Oh, and thanks for the sandwich, I was starving."

Sheppard ate while he threw on a t-shirt and a hoodie, and slipped on his Salomon sneakers. Grabbing his room key, he headed downstairs.

He heard his friends before he spotted them; Beckett and McKay were bickering about something. They were sitting in chairs under the covered section of the terrace facing the canyon. McKay's arms flailing as he made a point, Beckett's arms folded across his chest; Ronon appeared asleep, but Sheppard knew better. Stealthy, he crept up on his friends, and whispered, "McKay, what the hell are you bitching about?

Nearly leaping out of his chair, McKay blustered, "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Beckett snorted, "He's pissed off that we don't agree with him that Canada is better than the US or Scotland."

"Rodney, stop playing the martyr…Canada's a fine place, but it's not better."

Ronon grumbled, "I liked Scotland; it's rugged."

Sputtering, Rodney whined, "When have you been in Scotland…" He stopped abruptly, they had all been in Scotland for Beckett's funeral…he had forgotten. "Uh…I'm..,"

Sheppard eased into a chair situated between Beckett and Ronon, "Enough Rodney; we don't need to rehash all that."

Rodney took a deep breath, "How you feeling, John?"

"I'm okay, just a bit sore." Quickly changing the subject, Sheppard commented about the sky, "That lightning is amazing."

Beckett agreed, "I've never seen so many bolts of lightning at one time."

Storms were raging over the canyon; at times, it appeared as though a hundred streaks of lightning were hitting the far rim simultaneously. The spectacle unfolding before them was breathtaking.

"I love fireworks, and no one does fireworks better than Mother Nature." Sheppard sighed, "Amazing."

Ronon spoke, "I've been on a plan…uh…somewhere that the sky was like this most of the time. Didn't stay there long."

McKay replied, "Well, I don't want to go there."

They fell quiet, watching the lightning and listening to the constant roar of thunder for several minutes without speaking. Sheppard broke the silence. "I don't know about you guys but I'm ready to leave here, time to get back to civilization."

Rodney chirped, "San Francisco?"

Sheppard chuckled, "Nope, I'm thinking Tucson Arizona."

Rodney groaned.


	10. Part 5 The Wild Wild West Days 3 & 4

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

_**Part Five: The Wild Wild West…Day Three - Four**_

_**Day Three**_

Violent storms raged throughout the night, and the morning dawned gray and overcast, rain continuing to pelt the windows. Sheppard crawled out of bed around 0620 hours, his left shoulder and arm, along with his lower back, aching from the fall. Heading for the bathroom, he wondered how Beckett would react if he actually asked for pain medication. Chuckling, he suspected Beckett would probably faint, or 'manly pass out' as McKay would say.

After a long hot shower to chase away the soreness, Sheppard dressed, grabbed his laptop, and sat on the bed; time to find a top-rated hotel in Tucson. He decided that his friends had been through so much that it was time to stay in a luxurious hotel. A hotel where their every desire would be taken care of, they deserved nothing less; besides, he was being selfish, he wanted a huge soaking tub and room service.

After debating on a couple of hotels, Sheppard decided and booked the rooms online. It was nearly 0700 hours when he wandered to the second-floor lobby to grab a cup of coffee. As he took the first sip of the steaming beverage, his cell phone rang; it was McKay.

"Sheppard, you awake?"

"Rodney, I answered the phone, yes…I'm awake."

"We're in the restaurant."

"That's nice."

"Huh…look Carson said to join us for breakfast if you felt like it. Wha…" McKay's voice broke off, replaced by Beckett's brogue.

"John, you okay this morning?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sheppard's comment was met with silence; he sighed, "Okay, not gonna lie, pretty sore."

"Not surprised; that was a nasty fall. You up for breakfast, laddie?"

"Be right there, I was just getting coffee in the upstairs lobby."

Gingerly descending the staircase, Sheppard grimaced with each step as an intense burning sensation flared in his lower back, wrenched in the fall. He took solace as the image of the Tucson hotel's spa floated through his thoughts, there was a massage in his future.

Despite the early hour, the El Tovar dining room was crowded; no doubt, the guests were staying indoors due to the rainy weather. It took Sheppard a moment before he spotted Rodney, nose in his laptop, while Beckett and Ronon were engrossed in conversation. As he walked up to the table, Beckett looked his way after Ronon prodded the doctor.

"Well, you might try to deny how much you're hurting, but you're not fooling me. Sit down," Beckett reached in his pocket and pulled out a vial, "I swear I'm going to need more pain meds; here take these and no argument."

Sheppard sat down and took the pills without complaint, Beckett watching him with a mildly shocked look on his face. He realized Beckett was well aware of how much pain he was in, and was thankful the good doctor didn't pursue the subject.

After the server brought more coffee and took their orders, Sheppard asked, "You guys okay with leaving here today?" When everyone nodded, he continued, "I promised Ronon that we would go to the O.K. Corral, since he's interested in Wyatt Earp. I also think we deserved a little luxury, so I've booked four rooms at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel on Dove Mountain, a few miles from Tucson. There are pools, a spa, horseback riding, golf, restaurants among other amenities, and we can use the hotel as a hub for side trips. Sound okay to you?"

A wistful smile crossed Beckett's face, "Me mum took us to London on holiday after our dad died. She arranged for us to have high tea at the Ritz; I acted as though I thought it was silly but my sisters loved it. I have to admit secretly I did too. Wonder if they serve high tea at this Ritz?"

Sheppard offered a slight smile, "Not sure, maybe they do, but we'll find out later today. So it's settled, we head out after breakfast; it's about a five-hour drive to the hotel."

After breakfast, they packed up and McKay drove the Rover to the front of the hotel, where Sheppard waited with the luggage. As McKay exited the SUV, he uttered a low moan, which caught Sheppard's attention.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing...," McKay replied quickly.

"Rodney?"

Beckett was coming down the steps, "He begged me not to tell, but he fell off his bike."

"You fell off your bike?"

"No…flyboy, I didn't fall off my bike; some kid lost control and swerved into my path, and I had to avoid hitting him, so I wrecked the bike."

"You were groaning when you got out of the car, how badly are you hurt?"

Beckett answered, "He did a tumble over the handlebars but fortunately landed on grass; he's a bit scrapped up, and I suspect little sore, but he's okay."

"Speak for yourself, Carson; I'm more than a little sore."

Sheppard held out his hand, "Give me the keys, McKay; you're not driving."

As McKay handed the keys to Sheppard, Beckett reached for them, "No problem, John, I'll drive; you had pain meds and shouldn't. Rodney's on a lower dose than you, but he probably shouldn't drive either."

"No, you're not driving." Before Beckett could complain, Sheppard turned to Ronon, who had just arrived, and tossed him the car keys, "Here Chewie, here's your chance; you're driving."

Beckett and McKay appeared stunned, but Ronon grinned ear to ear, grabbing the keys from mid-air. As Ronon started loading their luggage into the Rover, Sheppard walked over to him, "Now listen, no speeding and if the weather gets really bad, Beckett drives; understand." Ronon grunted, and Sheppard decided that was a close to a yes as he was going to get.

Turning to McKay, Sheppard pointed to the rear door, "Get in the back with me." To Beckett, "Carson, you created this monster; you get to ride shotgun and keep an eye on him." With that, Sheppard got into the rear seat on the driver's side and closed the door. Everyone else piled in the Rover and Ronon Dex drove away.

~ooOoo~

About a half-hour after they left the El Tovar, Rodney poked Beckett in the shoulder,

"Carson, are you drugging him?"

Looking over his shoulder, Beckett frowned and spoke softly, "We've been through this before. John is still recuperating from the gunshot wound, on top of all these other injuries he keeps acquiring. Sleep is by far the best thing for him laddie, so be quiet, play with your computer, and stop worrying about John's sleeping."

"I think he sleeps too much."

Beckett sighed, "We are used to seeing John in his role as our protector; I used to wonder if the man ever slept. I was hoping this trip would give him the rest he needed. But no, the colonel still has to be everyone's protector; he needs rest to recuperate, so let him."

Ronon was slumped in his seat, concentrating on driving, but listening intently. He glanced at Beckett, "Sheppard's never going to stop protecting everyone; he is who he is. We need to keep him safe."

Looking over at his sleeping friend, McKay muttered, "Good luck with that."

The heavy rains of early morning had given way to a steady drizzle, low gray clouds hanging over the roadway. Sheppard continued to sleep; Rodney was pecking away at his laptop, and Carson had been staring out the window, or quietly conversing with Ronon regarding the scenery.

Noticing a sign for Flagstaff, Beckett told Ronon, "Big guy, we're coming up on a city and according to the GPS, we need to get on the Interstate. I think it'd be better if you let me drive until we get on the other side of Flagstaff. These interstates can be tricky."

McKay scoffed, "What makes you think that you can drive better than Ronon can on the interstate?"

Beckett turned around, peering over the seat, "Because I've driven in London, if you can survive London traffic, you can survive anything."

"Oh, so traffic in England is worse than here?"

"Worse than Canada, that's a given, Rodney."

McKay sputtered, "Carson…you…"

"Shhhh…McKay, be quiet; Carson's right, he should drive."

"Oh, flyboy, now you wake up."

Sheppard grimaced, "Can't help it with you around; Ronon, let Carson drive until we're on the interstate, then you can drive again. Find a place to pull over."

Ronon pulled into a deserted restaurant parking lot where he and Carson changed seats. Heavier rain began to fall, and for the first time since they had left San Francisco, there was a nip of fall in the air.

Sheppard shifted in his seat, stifling a moan, "Carson, before you get through town find a Starbucks, I could use a cup of coffee."

Beckett peered at Sheppard through the rearview mirror, "Could use a cup myself." The doctor held Sheppard's gaze for a second, "You doing okay?"

Sheppard dropped his head against the seat, "If I had a dollar for every time you've asked me, I could retire from the Air Force."

Beckett frowned, "If you keep this up, _retiring_ from the Air Force won't be an option."

Scrunching his face in a smirk, Sheppard replied, "Never thought it would be, doc; never thought I'd survive."

Shuddering, Beckett sighed, "I swear John, maybe it's the gene that gives you more than nine-lives to play with, but I tell you, laddie, you're tempting fate."

"Carson, drive…find a Starbucks; leave the psychoanalyzing to Dr. Warren."

Scoffing, Beckett retorted, "Poor Ross…he's certainly tried to have a few chats with you since he arrived on Atlantis."

McKay interjected, "I like him."

Sheppard snarked, "You would like him, McKay; you certainly spend a lot of time with him."

McKay didn't reply and Sheppard glanced over at the scientist, to see a pained look on his face. Crap, Sheppard thought, he said the wrong thing. "Rodney, sorry…I…"

McKay shrugged, "Things have been…I don't know…unsettling…lots of things…" He turned toward the window, "Nothing's the same since we left Pegasus."

Sheppard leaned against the Rover's leather seat, his voice in a near whisper, "Yeah…I know."

For the next few miles, the friends didn't speak, all seemingly lost in their own thoughts. As they neared Flagstaff, the GPS directed them around downtown Flagstaff and toward US 40, which would lead them to the interstate.

Beckett told Ronon, "GPS shows a Starbucks nearby, keep an eye out."

They almost missed Starbucks' non-descript tan stucco, wood and stone building nestled between a restaurant parking lot and an old 1950's style motel. At the last minute, Ronon spotted the coffee house, and Beckett made a sharp right turn into the driveway.

"Watch it, Carson…" McKay shrieked as his laptop slid off his knees, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I was turning into the parking lot." Beckett snapped.

"Okay, boys, no bickering," Sheppard said, picking up the laptop from the floorboard near his feet. As he started to hand the computer back to McKay, he noticed the screen showed a schematic of Atlantis, "Rodney, what's this?"

Snatching the laptop from Sheppard's hands, McKay sheepishly replied, "Nothing…just something...nothing." He quickly closed the lid, preventing Sheppard from getting a better view.

Chuckling to himself, Sheppard knew Rodney was up to something, and he was going to find out what. For now, however, he was dying for coffee. He opened the door to find Carson already waiting for him.

"Back's hurting, right?" Beckett was staring at him, his eyebrows raised in question.

Sheppard decided there was no sense in lying…much, "A bit."

"Turn around, let me feel your back."

"Carson, it's raining, and I'm not turning around for you to exam me in the parking lot."

"Don't get cheeky with me, colonel, this is just a light drizzle; turn around."

Sheppard glared at the doctor, then uttered a sharp sigh and turned around hiding behind the Rover's door, "Make it quick."

Beckett slid his right hand under the blue plaid shirt and white t-shirt Sheppard wore and along the colonel's lower back. "Ah…yes….you're having muscle spasms; I'll get you a muscle relaxant. Hang on."

"I don't want to get groggy again; I'm tired of sleeping."

Carson replied as he retrieved his medical bag from the rear compartment, "Sleep's the best thing for you, laddie, especially while we're traveling." Snickering, he added, "Besides you don't have to listen to Rodney like the rest of us."

"Well…there is that."

McKay and Ronon had gone into the coffee shop and grabbed a table; it was around 11 am, and the nearly half the tables were occupied. As Sheppard and Beckett walked in, McKay was placing an order for himself and Ronon.

"McKay, you getting Ronon that caramel latte thing I got him before?"

"Yes…I am; he said he wanted two of them."

"Get him one now and we'll get one to go."

"John, what do you want, and I'll get it…you go sit down," Carson said.

"Just a grande black coffee," he peered into the food case, "and one of those cinnamon chip scones."

Sheppard joined Ronon, who was sitting on a sofa in the corner near the front window. As he approached, Ronon grinned, "Nice view."

Looking out the window at the rain covered city street, Sheppard was puzzled, "Not the best view I've ever seen."

Ronon's grin broadened as he pointed toward the occupied tables, predominantly filled young college-aged women and men. "That's the view I'm talking about; especially that table."

Three lovely young women, clad in jeans and t-shirts, all pouring over their laptops had definitely caught Ronon's attention.

Sheppard eased down onto the couch, "Down, big guy; those girls are more than half our ages."

Ronon snarked, "Half your age."

Laughing and sighing at once, Sheppard nodded, "Touché… you're right." He watched the young women for a moment, "Ah…to be young and in college."

"There's a school near here?"

"Yeah, saw a sign back up the road, Northern Arizona University's here; suspect most of the people in here are students." Sheppard smiled at Ronon, "It's always nice to be around a college campus; certain obvious perks."

"Yeah…nice." Glancing out the side window, "What's this Auto Lodge?"

Chuckling, Sheppard followed Ronon's gaze toward the old white motel next door, "It's a motel, and I suspect, since this is a college town, one that rents by the hour."

Ronon was nodding as Beckett and McKay arrived with the coffee and food. McKay asked, "What's he looking so smug about?"

Sheppard snickered, "Ronon's just contemplating attending college."

Beckett handed Sheppard his coffee, and then a small white pill he removed from a vial. "Take this."

Frowning, the colonel, "Won't make me sleepy?"

Beckett smiled impishly, "Of course not, now take it."

The four friends spent the next thirty minutes enjoying their coffee and the pile of pastries McKay bought. Sheppard told them about the amenities at the hotel and about some of the attractions in the area.

"We are going to the Wyatt Earp place, right?" Ronon, eating his second piece of coffee cake, asked, mumbling his words.

Sheppard nodded, "That's the reason we came this way; lucky for us there's some other cool stuff to do as well." You guys about ready to leave?" Sheppard grabbed his cup, and stood, expecting to feel pain, "Hey, doc, not so bad, and not even drowsy. I'm going to the head, then get a refill." He headed for the rear of the shop.

McKay looked at Beckett, "Pill hasn't taken effect completely, has it?"

Beckett shook his head no, and got up, "Better keep an eye on him."

Everyone got a refill and as they walked to the Ranger Rover, Beckett told Ronon, "Monroe Street becomes I-17; Ronon, you might as well drive," and tossed him the keys.

They were barely on the interstate before Sheppard fell asleep.

~ooOoo~

Sheppard awoke to find the Rover stopped and no one inside. As he struggled to orient himself, he heard McKay's muffled voice griping about something. Slumping in the seat while he slept, he pushed upright, thankful to find his back wasn't hurting as badly as earlier in the day. He concluded Beckett might be right about sleeping, but he was loath to admit it. A quick glance at his watch revealed he been napping a bit over two hours. As he started to get out of the Rover, a door opened; it was McKay.

"Oh…you're awake."

"Rodney, your keen perception never ceases to amaze me."

"Bite me, Sheppard."

"Where are we?"

"North of Phoenix, Carson wanted to change drivers and get fuel. Now, I gotta go pay for Ronon's Mountain Dew; he spent all his money at the Hopi House."

"I'll go with you, need to make a pit stop."

Ten minutes later, they were back on the road, and driving through the heart of Phoenix. Sheppard was taking a drink of his coffee he'd warmed up in the convenient store's microwave when McKay asked, "Can we stop for lunch sometime soon? It's almost 1300 hours; I'm hungry."

Sheppard started to speak and McKay huffed, "Don't start; it's been a long time since breakfast, and I only ate one blueberry scone when we stopped for coffee, so…"

"Hush, I was going to say I was hungry, too. Carson, find us a McDonald's, we'll grab some burgers and keep going."

Carson chuckled, "Aye, colonel, understood."

"Who's being cheeky now doctor?"

Shortly before they merged onto I-10, Ronon spotted a McDonald's listed on a highway information sign and Carson took them onto West Thomas Road. A quick pass through the drive-thru, a change of drivers, and they were back on the road.

As they traveled down I-10, leaving Phoenix behind them, Ronon took the last bite of his second Angus burger, then mumbled, "Sheppard, is all of Earth this dull color?"

"We've been in the desert for most of the trip, so yes in this part of the world this is what Earth looks like. It's not all like this, lots of forest, jungles, rolling hills…mountains….not all like this."

"I'd like to see those places," Ronon announced.

Sheppard replied, "Can't see it all this trip, but I promise, some day."

Sheppard looked out at the same beige-gray sand, scrub brush, and wide expanse of sky they had seen almost since they left San Francisco. He found himself longing for green grass and large leafy trees like those at his boyhood home in Maryland. The pull for home was strong, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should make a trip to Maryland while he was on Earth. While he was on Earth…he moaned silently…who was he kidding, what he really missed was a crystal blue ocean, craggy shoreline, and heavily forested undeveloped land on New Atlantia. He wanted to go home, and home was the Pegasus galaxy.

A punch to his arm roused him from his thoughts, "Ouch, Rodney….what?"

"You gonna eat the rest of your fries?"

"Carson, have you tested this man for a tapeworm, he eats like a pig."

"Aye, laddie, that he does, but he's healthy…no pig DNA that I can find," Beckett snickered.

"Oh, you are both such comedians," Rodney carped.

"Here, I'm done; eat the rest of the fries," Sheppard pushed the red cardboard container toward McKay, "enjoy."

McKay shoved a couple of fries into his mouth and continued to pound away at his keyboard. He had turned so that his back was against the corner of the seat and car door, and the screen back of his laptop was facing Sheppard.

Still wondering what the schematic of Atlantis was doing on McKay's screen, Sheppard asked, "What are you working on so intently?"

McKay's head popped up, "Me…nothing… nothing," he stammered, "I-I'm just tidying up some reports."

"What were you doing with the Atlantis diagram this morning?"

"Uh… nothing…that's my screen saver."

"Rodney…"

"Well, it is."

Knowing McKay was up to something, and getting him to admit to it was going to be difficult, Sheppard knew he was going to have to wait for the opportune moment to trick Rodney into telling him. He decided to drop the subject.

"You talk to Radek this morning?"

McKay was staring at his screen again, and absently answered, "Yes, he said the goons from Area 51 were scurrying like cockroaches all over the place."

"It'll be over soon, Rodney."

"McKay sighed, "Not soon enough." He paused, hit a couple of keys, then looked up, "He did say something puzzling though; said one of Dr. Lee's techs was reviewing a section of the database that we never had time to get to and found several entries regarding planets in the Milky Way galaxy."

"That's really not surprising; Atlantis was on Earth for a very long time, stands to reason they would have explored the Milky Way."

"Yeah, I know but Radek said some of the entries didn't make sense. He put Dr. Shaden on the translation; she probably reads Ancient better than anyone does. Said he'd keep me informed."

"You keep me informed, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…not a problem…" McKay returned to concentrate on his laptop and Sheppard decided to leave him to his secrets, at least, for the moment.

"Chewie, I programmed the hotel address into the GPS when we stopped at that service station. I think you take exit 240, turn left onto Tangerine Road, then left onto Dove Mountain Road. You doing okay driving this much?"

"I'm fine, Sheppard; go back to sleep."

"Think I'm slept out for now."

While McKay continued to work, Beckett and Ronon questioned Sheppard about the area they were traveling to and about Tombstone. The next hour passed quickly; the GPS informing them when it was time to turn off the interstate.

Once on Tangerine Road, they passed some commercial property, and soon all that accompanied them was scrub brush, utility poles, and an occasional car, along with endless blue sky.

The GPS signaled they were approaching the turn onto the Dove Mountain Road, and Beckett, spotting the traffic light, warned Ronon to slow down. Ronon threw a quick glare toward Beckett, grunting, "I got this doc," which elicited a guffaw from Sheppard.

"Leave him alone, doc, he's doing fine; drives better than Rodney."

"Wha…," Rodney looked up, "Are we there yet?"

Sheppard replied, "Not yet…keep playing with your laptop and be quiet." Rodney frowned but didn't reply.

Turning left they passed a shopping area, and the road began to rise toward the ridge, in the distance. A divider landscaped with desert plants and magnificent tall cacti, split the four-lane road, which took them passed several residential developments.

"John, do you know what kind of cactus that is?"

"It's called a saguaro, and they only grow in the Sonoran dessert, which covers part of Arizona into Mexico. They live a really long time, those with arms are probably over one hundred years old. "

McKay had closed his laptop, "You are just a walking Wikipedia, aren't you."

Sheppard sneered at Rodney, but spoke to Ronon, "Hey, Chewie… you wanted green grass, look to your left, lots of green, part of the golf course."

"Golf, like hitting the balls from the deck on Atlantis?"

"Little more complicated than that, but we'll go to the driving range and let you have a run at the real game."

A few moments later, they turned onto the property of the Ritz-Carlton Dove Mountain Resort. Sheppard directed Ronon to pull up to the lobby entrance and exited the car. He waited until Ronon got out.

"Good job, big guy; unlike Rodney you don't drive like my Uncle Francis."

Ronon grinned and slapped Sheppard on the back of the shoulder; Sheppard hid the grimace of pain caused by the blow. Ronon handed the keys to the valet and waited for the bellmen to unload the Rover, while Sheppard stood back and watched. He supposed he could describe his feeling as pride as he considered how quickly Ronon had assimilated into Earth customs. He realized that the majority of people who met him underestimated Ronon; his overpowering physique and nearly mute demeanor led to the belief that he was all brawn and no brains. The big man was nothing like that; Ronon was cunning, thoughtful, intelligent, and formidable. He pitied anyone who underestimated his friend.

Leaving the luggage under Ronon's watchful eye, Sheppard followed by Beckett and Rodney entered the lush expansive lobby of the Ritz. Dark mesquite wood, stone pillars, contemporary furniture in shades of tan, soft orange, and blue dotted the lobby; at the far end of the room, a huge window revealed the Tortolita Mountains in the distance.

As they headed toward the Front Desk, Carson remarked, "Colonel, you have done it again; managed to select a beautiful place for us to stay."

"After everything we've been through, I thought an isolated and luxurious hotel was what we needed."

After checking in, Sheppard spoke to the concierge to arrange reservations for dinner and they followed the bellmen to their rooms. Sheppard tipped his bellman, was closing the door when Beckett appeared, medical bag in hand.

"How's that back?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Better."

"I'll be the judge of that, get that shirt off, and lay down on your stomach, so I can see for myself."

Sighing, Sheppard complied and stretched out across the bed, without saying another word. Beckett gently probed the muscles of Sheppard's lower back, then told him to turn over.

"I swear, John you're a giant bruise." He examined the three-day old cut on Sheppard's arm, the nearly healed gunshot wound, and the bruising and swelling around his shoulder from the strain that he received in the fall. He didn't bother with the yellowing bruises from the incidents on Lake Mead or the RV wreck.

"Your muscles seem much more relaxed, but you should take another pill," he reached in his bag.

Sheppard sat up, "No, no more pills; I'll take Advil. I want to have a nice hot bath, a nap, a good dinner and a scotch...followed by a good night's sleep. If my back is hurting in the morning, I'll take a pill, okay?"

Beckett shook his head, pulling out a white pill bottle, "You are a stubborn bugger. Alright, I'll agree to that but only if you take the Advil right now." He counted out three and handed them to Sheppard, then opened one of the complementary bottled waters left in the room. "Here…"

Sheppard took the pills and swallowed them with a swig of water. "Okay, doc…done, now go do whatever you want to do until we meet for dinner at eight."

"I know when I've been kicked out." Beckett picked up his bag, "You get some rest."

Sheppard lay across the bed for several minutes after Beckett left, allowing the calming Zen-like atmosphere of the room sink into his bones. Eventually, he convinced himself to get off the king-size bed; stripping off his shoes and jeans, he entered the bathroom. The huge soaking tub was the most appealing site he had seen in a very long time. He turned on the faucets, setting the water as hot as he felt he could stand; as he headed for the bedroom to retrieve his toiletry kit from his suitcase, he spotted a tiny bottle of shampoo on the counter. On a whim, he dumped the contents into the tub; if a bubble bath was good enough for Rodney, it was good enough for him.

When the tub was full and overflowing with bubbles, he dimmed the lights and flicked on the tiny battery candles sitting on the edge of the tub. He grabbed the remote and turned on the small flat-screen TV mounted on the bathroom wall, settling on a cable news channel with the volume low, and sank into the steamy water. Nirvana came to mind as the hot water soaked into his muscles, and the bubbles surrounded him like a cocoon.

Closing his eyes, he willed his mind to go blank, the newscaster's words floating in and out of his consciousness. The fragrant shampoo he'd thrown in the water reminded him of flowers from his aunt Adelise's garden. Thinking back to the summer he spent in Louisiana between his high-school graduation and entry into the Air Force Academy, he sighed. He remembered sitting on her brick paved patio late into the night, lighting bugs and soft glowing light from a fire pit the only illumination in the dark, the aroma of jasmine and other fragrant flowers perfumed the air. It was a magical summer, staying with his grandfather Anton Allain, and his mother's family. Family he barely knew until then.

Patrick Sheppard was livid when he learned his youngest son had applied and been accepted by the Air Force Academy without his powerful father's assistance. Sheppard was aware even then that his father would oppose him, so he went to an uncle, a US Congressman, for help. When Adelise and some of his mother's family came to his prep school graduation, he defied his father's wishes and went home with them for the summer, leaving for the Academy from there. He worked the fishing boats, getting to know his aunt, uncle, and cousins he had never met, and his grandfather.

He spent hours talking with his grandfather; committing every treasured word his grandfather uttered to memory. Anton Allain was a laid-back spinner of tales, and was smarter than most men John had ever met. They had laughed and worked hard on the boats, standing side-by-side on the deck as Anton taught him to maneuver the nets. Lazy Sunday afternoons found them canoeing through the bayou, and some nights when Adelise and the others had gone to bed Anton shared a bit of his bottle of scotch. They spoke little about his mother; the pain of her loss was still too great for both.

Sheppard sank deep into the steamy water, soaking his head, and reached for his shampoo, squirting a dollop on his head. Dunking under the water, he rinsed the shampoo out and relaxed again, his mind drifting once more. Eventually, the water cooled enough that he decided it was time to leave the sanctuary of the marble enclosed tub. He turned the water on in the large separate shower, and quickly rinsed his hair and body, then stepped out onto the fluffy rug and dried off. Flipping off the TV, he walked into the bedroom and felt chilled in the air conditioning. He remembered reading online that the room came with bathrobes; opening the closet, he found a thick white terry-cloth robe and slipped it on. He flopped down on the bed, called a wake-up call for a half-hour before dinner, and fell asleep.

~ooOoo~

The beeping phone roused Sheppard from a dream; he picked up the receiver dropping it back down onto the cradle with a thud. Rolling over on his back, he lingered, comfortable in the warm bed, as images from the dream flashed in his mind. He was riding a Ferris wheel, surrounded by nubile young college girls, who one by one morphed into Wraith queens. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, muttering, "Ronon had to point out those cute girls this morning." As he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, all he could think of was that his luck with women lately had been definitely of the Wraith kind, not the college girl kind.

Thirsty, Sheppard grabbed the bottle of water he had opened earlier, and as he took a drink, he walked over to the balcony doors, pulling back the drapes. It was nearly dark; the sky was losing the soft orange glow of the sunset, fading into deep midnight blue. He opened the doors and stepped out on the balcony; his room overlooked the main pool, and he could see the outdoor section of the bar, both now illuminated by the warm glow of sconces and landscape lighting. The night air was considerably cooler but still in the seventies, yet after the heat of the afternoon the air felt decidedly chilly.

As he watched stars begin to appear in the darkening sky he thought, coming to this hotel had been the right choice; the Ritz had all the glitz, and glamour of Caesar's Palace, along with the remoteness and back to nature feel of Lake Mead. A good combination in Sheppard's mind, one he hoped would lead to some fun and quiet days. He mostly wanted the quiet days.

Walking back into the room, he checked his watch…he had less than fifteen minutes to get ready. He was meeting the guys in the lobby at eight. Quickly rummaging through his suitcase, he selected a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and grabbed a jacket from the suit bag in the closet. At five minutes to eight, he slipped on his boots and headed for the lobby.

Sheppard was surprised to see McKay waiting alone in a small alcove off the lobby, staring into the gas flame burning in the fireplace. Sheppard managed to drop into an armchair next to the one McKay was sitting in without disturbing the scientist.

"Been here long?"

McKay jumped, as he jerked his head around, "Damn it, Sheppard; don't sneak up on me like that." He settled back in the chair, "I came down about ten minutes ago, decided I was tired of being harassed for always being late."

Sheppard laughed, "I think the old saying is 'a penny for your thoughts,' Rodney; you were staring into that fire as if you'd been transported somewhere else."

A pensive look crossed McKay's face, "You don't have to guess where...I was just thinking, what if what those entries in the database turn out to be important, and we're not there to figure it out?"

Slouching down in the chair, Sheppard shrugged his shoulders, "Rodney, I don't think Radek or Dr. Lee will keep anything important from you. Besides, Atlantis isn't going anywhere for awhile, at least…you'll have plenty of time to research whatever they've found."

"Yeah, well, flyboy, what happens if after we've been gone so long they decide they don't really need us?"

Sheppard sat up, turning to McKay, "Is that what all your constant griping has been about, you're afraid that you'll get replaced?"

McKay sucked in a breath, concern, fear…Sheppard couldn't decide which…flooded his friend's eyes. "I-I…I know it's stupid, but yes, I'm afraid that now that we're here they won't need us."

Sheppard leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then thought better of the move as he felt strain in his lower back…gingerly he straightened up, "Rodney, don't be an idiot; you are the most experience person in the known universe about this stuff. Whatever happened to that McKay ego?"

McKay didn't answer. Sheppard eased back in the tan upholstered armchair, "Please don't tell me that humility has overcome you, and you think you have human frailties. I don't think I can process that revelation."

McKay stood up, taking a couple of steps to the front of the fireplace, "It's easy for you, you…you possess the …you know…you are way too valuable to them but…."

"Rodney, no one is going to replace you; no one could."

"Really…you really think that?"

McKay's expression reminded Sheppard of a little boy who was once afraid that no one loved him; he was that little boy, scared following his mother's death. He answered his friend quietly, "I know that, now stop worrying."

Rodney glanced away as if he was at a loss for words; before he gathered his thoughts, Beckett and Ronon arrived.

Beckett was smiling, "Sorry we're late. Ronon was watching True Grit when I stopped by to get him, we watched the last fifteen minutes together. Love that movie."

"No problem, it's just a few minutes passed eight; I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry, let's eat."

The Ritz-Carlton's Dove Mountain resort sported several dining rooms and on their first night, they were dining in the CORE Kitchen and Wine Bar. Deciding the night was too nice not to enjoy, they chose to sit outside on the patio, their dinner companion a huge multi-limbed saguaro cactus, up-lit by landscape lights.

Twenty-minutes later, they were nearly finished with their salads and a bottle of wine. McKay was pulling off another chunk of bread from the third loaf the server brought; Ronon ate one loaf by himself.

Beckett ordered a Dungeness Crab salad, and from the moment the plate arrived, he had not spoken a word. As he put the fork down on a nearly pristine plate, he sighed, "John that crab was worth the entire trip." Realizing what he said, he quickly added, "Sans the injuries of course."

Sheppard was finishing an Ahi Tuna and Smoked Salmon tartare, "I'll second that, Carson…good food."

Rodney, chewing on a bite of bread, mumbled, "How can you eat that?"

"This from a man who ordered the Roasted Baby Beets and Bibb lettuce salad… seriously? Really, Rodney…I get tartare; Carson gets crab, Ronon's eating…what was that called Ronon, Buffalo Carpaccio…" Ronon nodded, and Sheppard continued, "And you ordered beets."

"I like beets and this was very good."

Sheppard smirked, "After all these years, you're still not very adventurous, are you?" McKay ignored him.

Beckett piped up, as he was pouring the last of the wine into his glass, "I'm not very adventurous about a lot of things either, but food…I like to experiment with food."

McKay glared at him, "Oh, so that explains it, haggis was an experiment gone badly."

After consuming three glasses of wine, Beckett was getting a bit tipsy, his voice slurring slightly, "Rodney McKay, I'll have you know that haggis is a very fine dish."

As McKay raised a finger to retort, Sheppard put up his hand, "Enough, let's just enjoy what we are eating tonight, and Rodney can play with his beets."

Sheppard's comment triggered laughter from Ronon and Beckett, and they were still laughing when the server brought their main courses. The aromas from Sheppard and Beckett's salmon, Ronon's steak, and the duck breast McKay ordered wafted across the table and once more conversation was at a minimum. After everyone had devoured a few bites, Sheppard pointed his fork at McKay.

"So how's the Maple Leaf Duck?"

"Sheppard, bite me…this is good and no…I didn't order it just because it was called Maple Leaf. I like duck," with a flourish Rodney took a big bite of his entrée.

Ronon looked perplexed, "Maple leaf?"

"Yeah, Chewie…the leaf of the maple tree is the symbol of Canada," Sheppard replied dryly.

Ronon grinned, "A leaf? The symbol of your country is a leaf?"

"Yes, it's a leaf, from the mighty maple tree," McKay preened.

"It's the oak tree that's mighty, Rodney; not the maple," Sheppard taunted.

Beckett was finishing his second glass of wine, from the second bottle they ordered, "Ah...leave the wee laddie alone; he can't help being from Canada."

"At least, I don't wear a skirt."

Beckett sputtered, "It's a kilt, Rodney, not a skirt, you cheeky bugger."

Sheppard threw up his hands, "Okay, okay…I started this…I'm ending this. Finish your dinner; afterwards, we'll go have a drink in the bar, alright?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. During the remainder of dinner, they discussed the hotel, their rooms, and after Rodney and Beckett ordered dessert and coffee, they headed for the bar.

The Ignite Bar was a cozy, contemporary bar with a beamed ceiling, dark wood floors, and furniture. A long bar, its counter made of ivory stone, sat along one wall; the straight back stools and chairs upholstered in the same ivory color. They headed for a table for four near the open patio doors, giving them a clear view of the large fire pit.

"I know I've already said this John, but this hotel is very nice," Beckett remarked, as he sat down on the thick cushioned ivory chair.

"Hard to find a better hotel than the Ritz," Sheppard replied.

McKay was watching one of the small TV's over the bar, "Why is it that all bars only show sports?"

Sheppard glanced sideways at McKay, "What do you want, what's that guy's name…Bill Nye, the Science Guy?"

"Well, not everyone likes sports," McKay huffed.

"Then don't watch."

"Hi, guys, I'm Mia, what can I get you?" They looked up to see a lovely, tall, blond cocktail server, who was staring at Ronon.

Ronon grinned, "Tequila."

She cocked her head, a sly grin on her face, "Any particular brand or would you like me to choose?"

"You choose."

She nodded turned to Sheppard, "And for you?"

"Glenfiddich neat, please."

"We have 12, 15, 21, and 40-year-old Glenfiddich, which would you prefer?

Sheppard sighed, "Been a long time since I had a 40-year-old scotch."

"Good choice, sir."

Before she could ask, Beckett spoke, "I'll have one of those as well, lassie."

Mia uttered a little gasp upon hearing the Scotsman's brogue, then gave Beckett a impish smile, "Lassie? Oh…you must know your Scotch."

She then turned to Rodney, "And you?"

"Uh…I…a Manhattan…uh… with Canadian whiskey."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

The four men watched her walk the short distance to the bar; Beckett finally broke the silence, "Yes, indeed, colonel; you certainly pick very nice hotels."

"I hear you, Carson."

Ronon leaned forward, "What's a Manhattan?"

Rodney answered, "It's a mixed drink made with Canadian whiskey, sweet vermouth, and bitters."

"Bitters?"

"An alcoholic drink made with herbs, it tastes bitter, and is used to flavor cocktails," McKay answered.

Confused, Ronon looked at Sheppard, who shrugged, "Scientists."

Mia returned with their drinks, serving Sheppard and Beckett their scotch in short square tumblers, sat McKay's drink in front of him, then placed a tumbler of pale amber liquid, a split lemon slice resting on the rim, in front of Ronon.

"This is Sauza Conmemorativo, my favorite tequila; I hope you enjoy." As she walked away, she slid her hand across Ronon's shoulder.

McKay groaned, "Great, now Ronon's getting hit on."

Sheppard grimaced, "Stop, McKay…let him have some fun; can't help the pretty waitress didn't like you best."

Ronon leaned over the table, taking a closer look at Rodney's drink, "Is that a beet?"

McKay looked at Ronon, "No…what the hell…it's a cherry."

"Cherry….isn't that a fruit?"

"Yes, but you have a fruit on your drink," Rodney whined, pointing to the lemon slice Ronon had lain on a napkin.

"But yours is sweet, seems like a girl's drink."

Sheppard and Beckett attempted to stifle their amusement but finally succumbed, both bursting out laughing. Beckett said, "Rodney can you tie that little stem into a bow with your tongue? If you can, bet the waitress would pay attention to you."

McKay was turning hot pink, "You need to grow up," he looked around the table, "all of you."

Sheppard rubbed his eyes, "Chill out, McKay; Carson and Ronon are just teasing." He raised his glass, "Let's toast to a few days of quiet, rest, and fun."

As they clinked glasses, Ronon snatched the cherry from McKay's Manhattan, quickly biting it off the stem. "Umm…good McKay."

McKay just stared at Ronon, then took a sip of his drink. Sheppard sighed, sipped his own drink, tipping his glass to Beckett, "Smooth." Beckett tipped his glass back.

"This tequila is good, better than the stuff I had at the other hotel," Ronon remarked.

Grinning, Sheppard teased, "Could it be who selected the tequila that makes it so good?"

Ronon glanced around at the bar, where the lovely barmaid was getting drinks for another table, "Might be."

"So, guys, I don't know what you want to do tomorrow, but I think a day hanging around the hotel is in order. We can do whatever we want, go to the pool, play a little golf, get a massage."

McKay brightened, "A massage sounds great."

Sheppard took a longer sip of Scotch, with a satisfied expression on his face uttered, "Then it's settled, hanging around the hotel it is."

~ooOoo~

_**Day Four**_

Prying open his eyelids into little slits, Sheppard gingerly rolled his eyes toward the clock sitting on the bedside table. It was 0807 hours; he groaned, later than he had intended on sleeping. He rolled onto his back, muttering, "Crap, John, is that all you're gonna do, sleep the days away?" He stretched, pleased to experience little pain across his back; scoffing, he thought, 'yeah, probably just the scotch masking the pain.' Too bad the Glenfiddich wasn't masking the pain inside his head; he and Beckett managed to down a full bottle of the smooth, rich peat flavored whisky between them. He wondered if Beckett was comatose.

Closing his eyes, Sheppard knew he needed to rehydrate, but the last thing he wanted to do was move a single muscle. If he'd been a bit more cognizant when he managed to find his room last night, he'd have put a bottle of water on the nightstand. At the moment, the tray holding water and ice was across the room, which felt like a football field away. He decided he wasn't moving and drifted back to sleep.

A loud ringing sound woke him abruptly, and he shot upright, unconsciously reaching for his P-14. Disoriented, it took a second for him to realize that the annoying noise was the phone. Snatching the handset from the cradle, he nearly knocked the phone onto the floor. Gruffly, he answered, "What?"

McKay's voice floated into his ear, "Well…you sound chipper this morning."

"Stop talking so loud, Rodney. What do you want?"

"We were just wondering if you were going to sleep the day away, it's already 9:00, and we're heading for breakfast at the… uh…CORE, out on the patio, want to join us?"

"No, go away," Sheppard slammed the handset down and fell back onto the pillow. As he became more lucid, he realized that he was hungry and breakfast did indeed sound appetizing; a hearty, greasy breakfast to soak up what was left of the scotch in his system.

Throwing back the covers, he rolled more than rose out of bed, padding to the bathroom. He flipped on the overhead light, then flipped it back off, the glare too intense, "Crap, too much scotch," he mumbled. Emerging a few minutes later, he slipped on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and gray hoodie, grabbed his key card, phone, sunglasses, and left the room.

The Arizona desert sun was a bright yellow glow in the sky as Sheppard walked onto the dining patio where his friends were waiting. He sat down, gazing around the table at his buddies. McKay, his ever-present pad propped up against a plate, seemed rested and relaxed, a word Sheppard was surprised to use as a description of his friend; nervous, anxious, paranoid, testy, those words always seemed more appropriate to describe McKay's mood. Beckett was quiet, sunglasses and fishing hat on, to keep the sun out of his eyes; but Sheppard suspected the good doctor was hiding the same thing he was, bloodshot eyes.

"Carson, how you feeling…"

Sheppard got no further before Beckett put up his hand, "No…laddie, gonnae no dae that …you had only around six drinks from that bottle. I bloody drank the rest, I was blootered last night."

McKay looked up from his pad, "You think? You were downing that scotch like it was water."

"McKay…not so loud," Sheppard lamented, as he poured a cup of coffee from the carafe sitting on the table.

Scoffing, McKay said, "Oh…you get drunk, and I can't rub it in like you did me." Rodney reached for Sheppard's coffee cup, "And no coffee…you need water."

Sheppard snatched the coffee cup out of McKay's reach, "No…I'll drink water but need coffee."

Smugly, McKay snarked, "Just what I thought Sheppard, won't practice what you preach."

Beckett moaned, "Rodney, quit your nipping."

McKay snapped, "What language are you speaking?"

Beckett downed a small glass of orange juice in one gulp, "I'm speaking English, you goon."

"No... no, you're not; you're talking like a street kid from Glasgow."

"McKay, shut up." Ronon's quiet command caused the scientist's head to snap around but when he saw the look on Ronon's face, he shut up.

Sheppard took a sip of coffee, then reached for a glass of water, drinking all of it, "For your information Rodney, I may have had a few drinks too many last night, but I never got plastered. I do have a headache this morning; haven't drunk that much in one sitting in a very long time."

When Rodney started to retort, a warning glance from Ronon quieted him, and he turned his attention to his pad once more. A server arrived and took their food orders with assurances he would be back swiftly with additional carafes of coffee and water.

As they waited for breakfast, Sheppard, feeling a bit better after consuming fluids along with the Advil and vitamins that Beckett had shoved toward him, asked Ronon quietly, "So big guy, when I left the bar last night, you were chatting with the lovely Mia. So, how'd that go?"

Ronon was leaning over the table, his elbows resting on the edge. He tilted his head toward Sheppard; the corners of his mouth slightly turned up, "We talked; that's all."

Sheppard's left eyebrow rose, "Really?"

A muffled chuckle escaped Ronon's throat, "Really…I…I think what we talked about before we left Atlan…home…was right, too much risk hurting someone if we act on our feelings. Don't want to do that."

"Wise man, Ronon Dex," Sheppard whispered.

"Or a complete fool, take your pick."

Sheppard only nodded, in reply; Ronon's logic defied disagreement.

After they breakfast, they decided to head for the pool, McKay complaining until Sheppard told him they'd rent a couple of cabanas, so he could stay out of the sun. They returned to their rooms to change and met at the Turquesa Pool by 10:15.

"Ooh…nice cabana's," McKay commented as he flopped onto one of the large white cushioned lounges nestled under the white billowy canopies. Ronon spotted the waterslide and headed up the incline toward the top of the slide, which led into a pool below the Turquesa. Beckett, resplendent in a red tropical pattern swimsuit, flopped down on a lounger sitting in front of the cabana and began to slather on sunscreen lotion.

Sheppard decided the best way to chase the cobwebs from his brain was physical activity. He stripped off the t-shirt he was wearing, hiked-up his navy blue swim trunks and dove in the deep end of the pool.

As his body slid through the water, still cool despite the intense sun beating down, Sheppard felt the tension in his muscles slough away with each stroke he took in the lengthy pool. It was shoulder season for the resort; the onslaught of winter guests weren't due until November, and the pool was empty. Sheppard was enjoying every moment of solitude as he swam several laps before feeling fatigued. Reluctantly, he exited the pool and after grabbing a towel, sat down in the chair next to Beckett.

As he rubbed the water out of his hair, he asked, "Carson, you awake?

"Aye, laddie; I think the sun is bringing me back to life." Beckett took a long swallow from the water bottle he was holding, "Remind me not to drink so much."

Sheppard swung his long legs onto the lounger and leaned against the inclined back cushion, "Only if you remind me, but damn that was some smooth scotch."

"Smooth indeed, but lethal."

Chuckling, Sheppard replied, "You certainly reverted to some Scottish words that I've never heard you use before. What was that word, _blootered_?"

Beckett sighed, "Blootered…yeah… means drunk or in this case really drunk. What the hell was I thinking after being so stupid at your friend's vineyard?"

"You're on vacation; you're allowed to be a little stupid."

"Got that market cornered, John."

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to see McKay, laptop resting on his bent knees. He was on the verge of harassing McKay for working all the time, when they heard loud squeals from the water slide. Both Sheppard and Beckett looked to their left to see Ronon sliding down with his arms around two small children, safely tucked against him. Sheppard hopped up just in time to see the trio splash into the lower pool.

Sitting back down, he laughed, remarking to Beckett, "Ronon's having a blast; I swear I'd do these last few weeks over just to see how much fun Ronon's had."

Beckett shook his head, "You would, wouldn't you? You'd go through all the trauma that you have been though just so any one of us would enjoy this vacation. John, one of these days, you need to concentrate on taking care of yourself."

Sheppard slipped on his sunglasses and lowered the back of the lounger, "No hurry, got plenty of time to worry about me."

A few more squeals from the direction of the waterslide broke the quiet but eventually both Beckett and Sheppard became drowsy in the hot sun, falling asleep. Sheppard awoke with a start as he felt something cold touch his chest. He snapped upright, "What the hell?"

Ronon was standing over him, a couple of bottles of cold water in his hands, "Thought you might want one of these." He held out a bottle and Sheppard grabbed it.

"Gee, thanks…"

Pointing to Beckett, "He's getting a bit pink isn't he?"

Beckett was turning hot pink; Sheppard swung his left arm and slapped Beckett's lounger. After a couple of tries, he woke Beckett up. "You need to turn over, gettin' sunburned." Beckett stirred, blankly looked at Sheppard and turned over, immediately going back to sleep.

Looking at his own skin, Sheppard flipped over, "Do me a favor, Chewie; wake me in a half-hour."

Exactly thirty minutes later, Ronon woke Sheppard by shaking him, "Get up, time for a swim."

Sheppard rolled over, stretched, and sat up; his skin was hot and Ronon's suggestion sounded wonderful, "A swim sounds just right." Choosing not to dive into the pool, he eased in from the edge and relaxed a bit before starting to swim.

Ronon dove in and joined him, with a huge grin on his face, he hollered, "Race you, Sheppard."

The two men swam for nearly five minutes, Sheppard chasing Ronon the entire way. Exhausted, Sheppard stopped next to the pool steps, giving up; he exited the pool and walked back to where Beckett and McKay were sitting. Looking at his watch, he spoke breathlessly, "Anybody h-hungry?"

"I am," McKay answered prompting a retort from Beckett.

"Rodney, maybe you are part pig."

Sheppard laughed and motioned for Ronon to get out of the pool, "Come on, Ronon; Rodney's hungry. Need to get changed for lunch."

~ooOoo~

They were sitting on the patio at Ignite for lunch, remnants of cheeseburgers and turkey sandwiches left on their plates. Sheppard was finishing the last dregs of his beer as he looked down at his watch.

"Well, boys, our massage appointment are in fifteen minutes. Ronon, you sure you don't want to join us at the spa?"

"No, rather go to the gym."

"Okay then, but after this massage, I want to go hit some golf balls; want to go with me?"

Ronon grinned, "Ready for me to out hit you?"

Scowling, Sheppard answered grimly, "Might as well be."

The Spa lobby was awash in white, walls, floor, and furniture; a large dangling chandelier hung over a round reception desk. The receptionist was a lovely brunette, who checked them in, first directing Ronon to the gym, then calling for attendants to take the other three to their massage suites.

Approximately an hour later, Sheppard entered the Spa lobby to find Beckett and McKay waiting for him. He was about to say something when a feminine voice yelled his name, "John, you forgot your watch." A lovely woman walked up to him, handing him his watch, "It was a pleasure to meet you, John Sheppard; I hope you will come back to see me again."

Looking quite embarrassed, Sheppard smiled slightly, "Thanks Ming, my shoulder, and back feel so much better." The tiny masseuse smiled warmly and rubbed his arm before she turned and disappeared down the hallway.

When he turned back to look at Beckett and McKay, both were staring at him; McKay's arms folded across his chest.

"What wrong with you two?"

McKay looked at Beckett, then back at Sheppard, "Really…you got the cute girl, and we got guys?"

"I didn't arrange that, if that's what you think," Sheppard replied sheepishly. "Come on, let's go get Ronon, I want to change and go hit some golf balls." He headed toward the gym.

As they followed Sheppard, McKay whined, "It's gotta be that damn gene that makes him so lucky."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard and Ronon left for the golf club, leaving Beckett and McKay on their own. They wandered around the hotel looking at the Southwestern artwork, and checking out the gift shop. They were walking through the main lobby when a sign caught Beckett's attention.

"Come on Rodney, let's see if we can get on one of the scenic trail rides this afternoon."

"I don't want to ride a horse; I don't like horses."

"Don't be such a bairn; they'll give you a gentle horse…it'll be easier than riding a bike."

"What the hell is a bairn?"

"A child, Rodney, don't be such a child; now let's check and see if we can take a ride on a horse."

To McKay's chagrin, there was a trail ride scheduled for mid-afternoon. After hastily changing into jeans, they had barely enough time to make the transport to the stables. On the way, Rodney was sullen, but Beckett ignored him, other than to assure him he was going to have fun.

Their wrangler, who introduced himself as Jock, was around sixty-years-old, with graying hair and a tan-weathered complexion. He spoke briefly with each rider and motion to a stable hand to bring a horse. When he got to McKay, he smiled.

"Ever been on a horse?"

McKay glared at Jock, "Yes…I have."

Jock asked, "More than once?"

"Uh…well…no," McKay swallowed, answering slowly.

Slapping him on the back, nearly hard enough to knock McKay down, "Got just the horse for you, son, she's a sweetheart."

A stable hand brought out a small, chestnut quarter horse, "This is Bessie, and she's real gentle." The hand helped a reluctant McKay onto the little mare's back, showing him how to hold the reins and how to instruct her to move. Once all the riders were up, Jock called for them to move out, McKay following Beckett down the trail.

The scenery was stark and beautiful. The afternoon sun washed the landscape in a golden glow, the sky was cornflower blue, the craggy peaks of the Tortolita Mountains reaching into the sky. They'd ridden about two miles when Beckett dropped back to see how Rodney was doing.

"You alright?"

"Just peachy."

"Rodney, the trail isn't difficult, and you have a wee gentle mare; you should be enjoying yourself."

"When did you learn to ride?"

Beckett smiled, as a far away look glazed his eyes, "There was this lovely lassie at college, who I was crazy about; her family owned a sheep ranch, and she invited me to spend a few weekends with her family. I learned to ride there, loved riding, but haven't ridden it in years."

"I don't like it; my butt hurts, and my back hurts from falling off that damn bicycle."

"Are you in pain, Rodney?"

"Yes."

Looking unconvinced, Beckett said, "Rodney, as the colonel would say, suck it up, and enjoy yourself," then moved forward in front of McKay again.

As they rode down the trail, Jock entertained the riders by describing the terrain, and the flora and fauna of the high Sonoran desert; most of the riders moved closer to the wrangler, so they could hear him better. McKay lagged behind, and as the group got further away, he halted the little mare, and with some difficulty, managed to turn her around and headed back for the stable.

~ooOoo~

It was nearly 5:00 p.m., and Sheppard and Ronon were sitting on the patio at Claytons, the Golf Club's restaurant, a couple of cold draft Guinness beers in front of them.

Ronon was grinning, "That was fun."

"Yeah, well, you did win a hundred dollars from that pompous ass who said you couldn't out drive him. I'd consider that fun."

"Putting's fun, too."

"That was another fifty dollars you won off me."

"I'm beginning to like golf."

"Rub it in, Ronon."

"So, when are we going where Wyatt Earp lived?"

"You are really interested in him, aren't you?" Ronon nodded; Sheppard continued, "I was thinking that tomorrow after…." His phone rang, "It's Carson; Rodney probably wants to know when we are going to eat."

"Carson, hey; we'll be back at…," Sheppard stopped, listening intently. "You have no idea where he is?" He paused, then answered, "We'll be right there." He stood up, already moving toward the door, "Come on, Rodney's missing."

The assistant manager of the golf resort drove Sheppard and Ronon over to the stables on a golf cart. On the way, Sheppard tried to reach Rodney by phone with no luck. When they arrived, Beckett and Jock were talking to hotel security, while several of the hands were saddling horses.

When he saw Sheppard, Beckett ran over to him, "Colonel, I don't know what happened. He was behind me, and complaining about his back and butt hurting. I thought he was exaggerating, like always. When I turned around again, he was gone."

A tall man flashing a badge approached, "I'm Security Chief Martin Reynolds. Are you Colonel Sheppard?"

"Yes I am...any idea where McKay could be? I tried calling his cell, but couldn't reach him."

Reynolds shook his head, "We have to use radios out here; for some reason, we lose cell service here at the stables. Ritz has been trying to get another tower built here."

Jock walked over, "Colonel...I was the wrangler on this drive. In answer to your question, McKay can't have gotten far. Bessie's a good mare; she knows her way back to the stables. I'm sure they'll show up soon."

Ronon was restless, "Sheppard, let me go look for him." Sheppard nodded.

"Reynolds, this is Ronon Dex; he's a civilian contractor for the Air Force and part of my team. He's an expert tracker; he can find Rodney." Sheppard turned to Jock, "Can you get us a couple of horses?" Jock nodded and headed for the stables.

"Colonel, I was just getting ready to call in the local sheriff and the county rescue team."

Sheppard shook his head, "I don't think Rodney could have gotten far, probably just made a wrong turn. Ronon should be able to find him, but might want to keep them on standby, if we don't find him before dark."

The security chief pointed to the sky, "You've got less than an hour of sunlight left, colonel. I'm going to let the sheriff know what's going on; he might want to send some help just in case."

Jock was returning with a couple of saddled horses. "Here you go," handing the reins to Sheppard and Ronon, "the boys and I are going with you."

"John, I'm going, too," Beckett was insistent.

Sheppard patted him on the shoulder, "Of course you are." He looked over at Jock, who nodded to one of his hands, who slipped on his mount and handed the reins to Beckett.

Sheppard mounted his horse and with Jock in the lead, the search party left the stables in search of the missing scientist. Thirty minutes passed before they reached the spot Beckett thought was the last time he spoke with McKay.

Ronon trotted his horse next to Beckett, "Doc... you certain this is the place?"

"Yes Ronon, I am; I remember that funny-looking cactus. I had dropped back to check on him, and he was complaining about his back hurting. I told him to suck it up like the colonel would tell him…" Beckett's voice broke, "I – I…he might really have been hurting, and I thought he was complaining as he always does." Turning to look at Sheppard, Beckett's voice was quivering, "John, he's been out here in this heat for about three hours with only one bottle of water."

"Don't worry, McKay's stronger than he wants us to think, he'll be fine." Ronon assured Beckett.

Sheppard gave Beckett a tight-lipped smile, "Ronon's right; Rodney does surprise us."

They continued for another 10 minutes until Ronon threw up his hand, halting the search party, and hopping off his horse. Sheppard got off his horse, joining his friend.

"Got something?"

"Yeah, think so…look, there are lots of tracks going down the trail…but right here, there are wide hoof prints, like someone turned a horse around."

Jock had joined them, "Yeah, and not very well…Bessie should have turned tighter than that, might have had trouble getting her turned."

Ronon walked back down the trail, examining the tracks. Kneeling down next to a set of tracks he remarked, "Hard to tell but looks like some of these prints are heading back toward the stables." He stood up, asking Jock, "You come back this same way?"

"No, we follow a trail that winds back to the stables; we don't backtrack."

Sheppard looked down the trail, "Knowing Rodney he got bored and decided to head back, turned the horse around and…."

Beckett finished Sheppard's sentence, "…and disappeared."

"Not disappeared, just lost, Carson; we'll find him."

Jock spoke, "I'm gonna send a couple of the guys on around the trail that we took the group. Rest of us will follow you."

Sheppard agreed; mounting their horses, they started back toward the stable, slowly, Ronon in the lead.

The sun was nearing the horizon, when Ronon halted the group once again…they were near a sizable area of scrub brush, and cactus, near a narrow rocky incline jutting into the flatter terrain. He leapt off his horse, "Sheppard, looks like some tracks headed off that way," pointing around the rocks. "There're other tracks here, smaller tracks."

Jock hurried over, dropping to one knee, "Bobcat tracks; cat might have run out of that scrub and spooked Bessie."

Ronon walked across the trail, "Hoof prints this way." He and Jock mounted their rides, and the group headed up the rocky incline.

As dusk fell, they began to yell for McKay, Jock and his hands brought strong searchlights with them, which illuminated the trail, but it was still difficult to see. Sheppard and Ronon were calling for McKay, hoping he'd recognize their voices. Sheppard was getting exasperated, all he could think of was he was going to kill Rodney when he found him…knowing full well that he wouldn't; it was just fear for his friend that was driving his thoughts.

Sheppard yelled Rodney's name again, and then stopped to listen, this time a faint voice replied. Ronon whooped, "That's him."

They came around a curve in the narrow path, and found McKay on the ground, propped up against a rock, Bessie's reins in his hand. The little mare was standing next to him. When the searchlight shined on him, McKay threw his hand over his eyes from the glare. Sheppard jumped from his horse but wasn't quick enough, Beckett beat him to their friend.

"Rodney, are you okay, laddie?"

"No, I'm not okay, Carson; I'm sunburned, thirsty, and shaky from hunger."

Sheppard grabbed a water bottle, "Here…" handing the bottle to McKay, "…drink slowly." He waited for McKay to take a drink then asked, "What happened, why didn't you tell Carson you were returning to the stable?"

"He didn't believe me when I told him my back was hurting, and he was having fun, so I decided to go back, figured he would realize I returned to the stable. I was gonna wait for him there. But the horse got spooked, some animal that looked like a cat ran out in front of her, and she took off up this path; I couldn't get her to stop. Then she stumbled on a rock and hurt her leg…look…her knee's all swollen…didn't seem she wanted to put any weight on it. I was scared I'd hurt her if I tried to ride her or move her, so I figured someone would come looking for me." Rodney shivered, "Damn...I didn't eat all my lunch, really hungry."

Sheppard reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a powerbar, "Here…always keep one with me in case you get crabby."

McKay stared at the powerbar and then at his friend, "You keep these for me?"

"Don't let it go to your head, McKay; just prefer not to hear you gripe about being hungry, now eat that."

Jock had checked out the mare's leg, "Your friend did the right thing; Bessie's injured her knee, could be a sprain, but don't think it's anything more serious. I'm sending one of the boys back for some supplies; we'll get her wrapped up and back to the barn for treatment."

Crouching down next to McKay, Jock smiled, "Glad we found you, son, and thanks. Your actions probably saved this little mare's life; she's one of our favorites, would have hated to lose her."

McKay, chewing on the powerbar, only nodded in reply. Sheppard answered for him, "Hope she's okay, and thanks for your help in finding McKay."

"Hey, don't thank me," Jock motioned in Ronon's direction, "that boy can track. Got some Indian blood in him?"

Sheppard smiled, "Something like that."

Jock added, "Colonel, I'm going to remain with Bessie; your friend can ride my horse back." Turning to his stable hands, he ordered, "Vic, Roger, you stay with me; rest of you, escort our guests back to the stables." To Sheppard, he added, "I've radioed Reynolds; he'll have transport to take you back to the hotel."

Sheppard shook Jake's hand, thanking him. He and Ronon helped McKay onto Jock's horse, and with Beckett riding next to his friend, they returned to the hotel.

~ooOoo~

While Beckett accompanied Rodney to his room, Sheppard and Ronon headed to their rooms for quick showers, Sheppard called Ignite and ordered takeout, then met up with Ronon. They picked up the food order and headed for Rodney's room.

Carson opened Rodney's door, rolling his eyes. Sheppard laughed, "That bad?"

"Thinking about a very strong dose of pain meds to put him out of our misery."

"Don't forget your Hippocratic Oath, doctor."

"Thanks for reminding me, laddie."

Entering the room, they found McKay lying on his bed, laptop next to him, dressed in the happy face pajamas and a t-shirt. He was definitely sunburned, his skin bright pink.

"Love that particular shade of pink, Rodney," Sheppard snarked, as he and Ronon opened the food containers.

"Bite me, Sheppard; I'm hurting."

Handing him a cheeseburger, "I know you're uncomfortable, and I am certain that Carson is taking good care of you."

McKay took a big bite of his burger, mumbling, "So go ahead…"

"Go ahead and do what?" Sheppard as he sat down at the small table, and grabbed a beer.

"Yell at me for leaving the group, I'm certain you're chomping at the bit to yell at me."

Taking a bite of his sandwich, he chewed slowly, then took a drink of his beer before he answered, "Not going to yell at you; you know you shouldn't have left, but you did do the right thing and took care of Bessie. So, while you created the problem, you did the right thing in the end."

McKay stared at him, oblivious to the soft chuckles from Beckett and Ronon, "You think I did the right thing?"

Sheppard took another swig from his beer, "About the mare yes, about leaving the group…well that was stupid. You were lucky you didn't break your neck falling off Bessie when she spooked."

McKay grunted, pointing at Sheppard, "See, I knew you wanted to yell at me."

Beckett stuffed two avocado fries in his mouth as he replied, his words garbled, "Rodney, you are sunburned, and you're back is slightly strained. You are going to live, and if John isn't going to yell at you, I am. You shouldn't have left without telling me; I'd have come back with ya if you were that uncomfortable."

Sheppard interrupted, "Okay it's done…let's talk about tomorrow. We came to southern Arizona to take Ronon to the OK Corral, so that's what we are doing tomorrow. It's a two-hour drive from here so, let's leave around 0700 hours, that way we'll have a full day to enjoy Tombstone."

Ronon grinned, "That sounds cool."

Rodney groaned.

_To be continued..._

* * *

This segment is a bit transitional...just a little action...I wanted them to have a little fun...however...

I will try to have the next installment sometime this month but I have some committments to take care of, but I will get it done as soon as possible. No worries, I will finish this Road Trip.


	11. Part 5 The Wild Wild West Day 5- 9

**Title:** **Road Trip**

**Part Five: The Wild Wild West… Day Five - Nine**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: **Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

**Word Count: **24,660

**Spoilers: **Post Season Five

**Warnings:** Minor Language

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes:** First to all of you who have contacted me regarding Road Trip, thank you for reading this story, and for your patience. It's been a crazy few months, and as much as I have wanted to get back to Road Trip, real life didn't allow it. I did finish my novel, and now doing the hard part, editing it. I hope you enjoy this segment. As much as I hate to say it…this story is going to have to end at some point and that point is getting near. I think there will be one more chapter to Road Trip after this; I promise I won't be as long getting the last segment written.

Thank you again for all the wonderful comments; I'm so glad you've enjoyed the trip with the guys.

* * *

**Road Trip**

_By stella_pegasi_

**Part Five: The Wild Wild West… Day Five - Nine**

Sheppard glanced over at Ronon, slumped in the front passenger seat. His normally quiet friend was being even quieter…bordering on sullen. He decided to risk asking what was wrong.

"Hey, buddy, you pissed about something?"

"No."

Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, he knew that tone, "You are pissed."

"No."

Tapping the steering wheel, Sheppard realized why, "You're mad because I'm driving."

"No."

"Yes, you are." Gesturing out the window, he said, "We're sitting in bumper to bumper rush-hour traffic on Friday morning. I figured it would be like this, so I decided to drive since you hadn't experienced traffic this heavy. Once we're through Tucson, the road narrows at some point to two lanes, and I just thought it would be better for me to drive."

Ronon nodded, "Okay."

Biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing, Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, to find Beckett grinning broadly. He realized how much they had discovered about their friend, the big man from Sateda, during this trip. He knew if nothing else was worth the trouble they'd been through, that fact was.

An exaggerated sigh sounded from the back seat, "Why did we have to leave so early?"

"Because Rodney, it's a two-hour drive. Factoring in at minimum one pit stop and two snack breaks for you, I decided I wanted to get there before noon."

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Beckett snickered, "Come on, Rodney; John's just funning with you."

"My sunburn hurts."

"Oh ya big baby…maybe the tips of your ears and your nose are bright red but the rest of your face is only slightly pink." Beckett poked McKay's cheek with his index finger, prompting McKay to swat his hand away.

Beckett pulled his sunglasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his expression pinched. "Do ya have the cream I gave you last night?" He waited while McKay reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small silver tube. "Then use it, it has lidocaine and will take away the pain, only use a little bit, you don't need the entire tube."

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder, noting Rodney's very red ear tips. He felt sorry for his friend but wasn't going to let on, "McKay did you bring a hat?"

"Yes, I did."

"Good… that way you won't be whining all day."

With no quick retort from his friend, Sheppard decided McKay might really hurt and decided to change the subject.

"Ronon, did you have time to look at those websites about Earp and the OK Corral?"

"Yeah, I did."

Sheppard laughed softly, dragging more than three words at a time was an effort, "And… what impressed you?"

"The Buntline gun, with the twelve inch barrel Earp was suppose to carry was a lie."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he used a .44 caliber 1869 American Smith and Wesson with an eight inch barrel. Story I read said the Buntline was a lie used by some guy to promote stories he wrote about some of the sheriffs in the west."

Noting the enthusiasm in Ronon's voice, he prodded, "Who were the other sheriffs?"

"Some guys named Masterson and Basset and some others, don't remember."

"Ah…Bat Masterson, loved that TV show…used to watch the reruns when I was little," Sheppard replied, a far away look in his eyes. "His horse was named Stardust."

Ronon turned to Sheppard, confused, "Bat Masterson was on TV?"

"Gene Barry played him."

"Rodney, that's right; how did you know?"

"I liked the show."

"Never figured you for the cowboy type…thought you were into superheroes."

McKay sighed, "I liked Bat Masterson and I liked the Lone Ranger."

Beckett interjected, "I liked The Virginian, saw it in reruns; I wanted to be Trampas."

Sheppard nodded, "Trampas was cool but I liked the Virginian and Deputy Sheriff Emmett Ryker. Ryker was played by Clu Gulager…always thought that was a cool name."

"I'd like to see that show," Ronon said.

"Tell you what, we'll check to see if we can order the DVD set when we get back to the hotel. I wouldn't mind seeing them again either."

"John, did you ever watch High Chaparral?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard nodded, "Oh yeah, loved that show…great cast and…" in unison, Sheppard and Beckett said, "Victoria…" The two men laughed and Sheppard added, "I always envied Big John Cannon, even when I was too young to understand why."

Ronon grinned, "Pretty?"

"Very pretty, Chewie, very pretty…we'll get those DVDs as well. Can't believe we never added them to the DVD library on Atlantis.

Beckett replied, "That's because Elizabeth," Beckett paused…stumbling over Elizabeth Weir's name, "…uh… put Dr. Sparks in charge of the movie library and neither one of them liked westerns."

Sheppard fiddled with the rear view mirror, Ronon and Rodney staring out the window at the passing scrub brush, all lost in their memories of Elizabeth Weir. Shaking off the melancholy settling over him, Sheppard replied to Beckett.

"Well, we'll have to update the DVDs." Spotting a convenient store, Sheppard pulled in, announcing, "I need another cup of coffee."

"I thought I was going to slow us down, but you're the one who needs a snack." McKay sat back in his seat, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, as he opened the car door, an impish grin on his face, "Bite me, McKay."

Back on the road, coffee for everyone but Ronon, who bought a two-liter of Mountain Dew, Sheppard asked, "Who has the brochure from Tombstone?" Beckett replied that he did.

"Tell me some of the things to do there, I was too tired to look it up last night."

"There's a two-hour walking tour of the city with some guy called Dr. Jay…reviews look good…supposed to tell the real story of Tombstone."

"Okay, sounds good, maybe we should start there; what else?"

Beckett rattled off several other attractions they could visit, the discussion keeping them busy until they reached Tombstone. Traffic was lighter than Sheppard expected, and they arrived in the small western town around 0930. Sheppard found a place to park on a side street beside the Birdcage Theater.

Ronon and Beckett hopped out of the Rover quickly, walking toward Allen Street, the main street of the Old Tombstone attraction. Sheppard was about to open his door when he realized that McKay hadn't moved.

"You getting out?"

A frown was his only answer, but by the time Sheppard reached the rear of the Rover, Rodney had exited as well. They walked in silence toward the main street, turning the corner onto the dusty street where many of the original buildings of the Earp era were still standing. Sheppard spotted Ronon and Beckett already halfway down the block.

He tugged on McKay's sleeve, "Come on, let's catch up."

McKay didn't answer and Sheppard sensed his foul mood, "McKay, having fun yet?"

"Seriously, Sheppard, I doubt this dusty, dirty place even has running water."

Shaking his head as he listened to McKay whine, Sheppard patted him on the back, "I'm sure they have running water, not so sure about indoor bathrooms though." McKay reacted to Sheppard's taunt by slowing his pace; Sheppard walked on, chuckling.

After joining Beckett and Ronon, Sheppard suggested they head to the tourist center to sign up for the walking tour. They bought tickets for the tour and the OK Corral show later in the afternoon, along with cold drinks and headed to the jail to wait for the tour to start.

Ronon was soaking in the atmosphere, as Beckett excitedly pointed out some of the things he remembered about Tombstone. McKay leaned against the jail, drinking a diet soda, looking morose.

Sheppard walked over, and leaned on the wall next to him, "Put your cap on, you don't want to get those ears any redder."

McKay pulled a cap from his jacket pocket and put it on. Sheppard asked, "That the cap you bought at Lake Mead?"

"No, this is Carson's fishing hat, he let me use it to cover my ears. Feels like an eternity ago since we were at Lake Mead."

"I hear you, we've crammed quite a bit of fun into these past weeks."

It was McKay's turn to chuckle, "If you call mayhem fun, then I suppose we have."

"Not having fun, Rodney?"

"McKay snarked, "Why of course I am."

Deciding not to bite on McKay's snappy answer, Sheppard simply said, "Good, I'm glad."

McKay frowned, but changed the subject, "You know this is nothing more than a glorified tourist trap."

"Where's your sense of adventure? Use your imagination, pretend you're a cowboy ready to take on the Earps."

"You really are a kid, aren't you?"

Sheppard took a long drink of water, "Nothing wrong with being a kid, Rodney. You just don't have to act like one." He pushed away from the wall, "Come on, looks like our tour guide is here."

Dr. Jay arrived with a few 'town folk' in tow, all dressed in western period clothing. Their tour guide sported long graying hair, pulled back in a ponytail, a white tab-collared shirt, pale green ascot with a diamond stud, tapestry vest, and a black hat. Hanging from his vest was a gold watch fob and strapped around his waist was a worn brown leather holster replete with a shiny six-shooter.

For the next two hours, as they followed him around town, Dr. Jay regaled the group with antidotes of the real Tombstone, using humor and interesting tales. To the surprise of his friends, McKay engaged in the discussion, asking several questions.

When the tour was over, they decided on lunch at Big Nose Kate's Saloon based on the recommendation of a woman from Delaware, who had chatted with Beckett during the tour. They entered the saloon, crowded just after midday, and found a table in a cramped corner.

"All that walking made me hungry." Sheppard said as he looked over the menu. 'Um…I think we need that Sample Platter first…it's got onion rings, Buffalo chicken bites, and cheese sticks…" he stopped as Ronon held up two fingers. "Okay, Chewie, two Sample Platters."

The server brought their drinks, saying she would be right back with the platters. Beckett had ordered root beer and he took a sip. "Ah…now that is good root beer; haven't had any in years."

Sheppard, without looking up from the menu said, "Hey, Rodney…were you surprised Tombstone had running water and telephones before most cities in the US?"

McKay tilted his head back and forth, "Okay, rub it in…I made a joke about there not being running water here now…so flyboy here wants to be funny."

Beckett answered, "You seemed really interested in the stories Dr. Jay told, I didn't expect that."

McKay, reaching for his iced tea replied, "I was really surprised about the oyster bar they had here. Shipping oysters packed in ice from the Gulf of California all the way here was quite a feat. What was it, Jay said it's somewhere between six to eight hundred miles away? Amazing."

"Yeah, just think he said the shipment came by rail to Tucson, then it was a fourteen hour stagecoach ride. We did that trip in less than two hours," Sheppard commented.

Ronon grinned, his eyebrows rising roguishly, "If McKay was driving, it would take fourteen."

Beckett and Sheppard burst out laughing. McKay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, muttering, "Funny."

Sheppard, trying to curb his laughter, said, "Lighten up, Rodney; it was funny."

Thankfully, the platters arrived to end the conversation. The server barely got the plates down before Ronon and McKay were already reaching for food. She asked, "Okay boys, what else can I get ya?"

Sheppard and Ronon ordered 'Goldie's Famous Over-Stuffed Reuben,' recommended by the woman from the tour, Rodney decided on the Philly Cheese Steak. When the server got to Beckett, she cooed, "And what can I get for you blue-eyes."

Beckett's cheeks flushed and he mumbled, "The chicken sandwich."

"Okay, baby, you want Kate's Breast? Crispy or grilled?"

Beckett turned redder, "Crispy with honey mustard."

"Ah…you're gonna like Kate's Breast, its tasty…I'll get refills for your drinks and your food should be out in about ten minutes."

Beckett didn't say a word as his three friends stared at him and then broke out laughing. Sheppard leaned over the table and whispered, "You were embarrassed to ask for that sandwich, weren't you?"

"No, laddie, I just didn't remember the name of it. Besides, who would name a sandwich like that?"

Sheppard shook his head, "Big Nose Kate was a prostitute, ran a bordello, and was Doc Holliday's girl friend. So, it's apropos…and funny."

McKay asked, "Wasn't this a hotel?"

Sheppard nodded, grabbing an onion ring, "Yeah, the Grand Hotel…remember Jay said the bar in here and in the Birdcage are the only two original bars in Tombstone. The rest burned up in some of the fires that swept through here."

Beckett asked, "Were there over 100 saloons when this place was really booming?"

"Yeah, that's what Doctor Jay said," Ronon answered.

"So, if we have time before the OK Corral show at 1400, we'll go to the Birdcage. Then after the show, I want to go to Boothill…we'll drive up there. Then come back here, check out what we haven't seen and then have dinner at The Crystal Palace before we go home. Sound good?"

They all agreed and proceeded to devour the platters and then their sandwiches. Sheppard paid the bill and they left Big Nose Kate's, heading for the Birdcage Theater, where they joined a group of tourists to listen to the tour guide.

Where Doctor Jay was polished and well-dressed, Dean, the Birdcage tour guide looked like he walked right out of the silver mines and into the Birdcage for a night of fun. His long graying hair, scruffy beard, big black hat, and period clothing gave him an air of authenticity.

When Dean finished his spiel, and they were free to roam the theater, Sheppard walked to the bar, running his fingers along the smooth, old wood. Ronon followed him.

Sheppard noticed his friend had joined him, "Remember the bar at my father's house?"

"Fancier than this one."

"Yes, it is… you know it's funny... my father would have been embarrassed by such a bar, definitely looks saloon-like as opposed to the British gentlemen's club atmosphere he felt comfortable in. But my mother's father, Anton Allain, visited Tombstone a couple of times and told me how much he wanted a bar just like this. Such a difference between those two men…."

"Sounds like your grandfather was a good man, Sheppard."

Nodding, Sheppard replied, "That he was…." He didn't have a chance to say more as a loud 'Rodney' echoed from the casino area, "Let's go…the kids are fussing again."

Thirty-five minutes later, Sheppard herded his friends toward the OK Corral for the main show. They settled in the bleachers about ten minutes before the live show began. The 'stage' was a walled in area with a false backdrop of building along Allen Street, painted in bright colors.

Ronon remarked as they sat down, "Why didn't they set this up where the real gunfight was?"

"Didn't Doctor Jay say it was because some movie called it the Gunfight at OK Corral came out years ago, and everyone assumed the OK Corral was where the fight actually happened? We watched a movie about the gunfight, didn't we? Think I remember seeing Kurt Russell in it."

"Yeah, caught the last half-hour while we were at the lake, you slept through most of it."

"I slept through everything… well, nearly everything… at the lake. We'll have to watch it again," Sheppard replied.

McKay was grumpy, "This is really going to be cheesy, isn't it?"

Beckett snapped, "Rodney, for once…could you just shut up and enjoy something for what it is, not what ya think it should be."

"Yeah, well…I'm telling your mother you bought those photos."

His interest piqued, Sheppard asked, "What pictures?"

McKay smugly said, "Those kind of pictures…"

Sheppard pushed back a laugh, "What kind of pictures?"

"You know…"

"No, I don't, Rodney; tell me." Sheppard knew what kind of pictures; he'd seen the copies of the original photographs of some of the ladies of ill repute who worked the Birdcage. He simply wanted Rodney to see if Rodney would describe the quite intimate pictures.

"They are…uh…"

Beckett snarked, "Ya cheeky bastard, I bought some photos of the prostitutes because I am interested in photography and these were good examples of early photographs."

"You bought them because they're naked," McKay snarked back.

Ronon asked, "Can I see them?"

Sheppard held up his hand, unable to contain his laugher any longer, "Enough, all of you." He pointed to McKay and Beckett, "Stop sniping at each other." Then, still laughing, told Ronon, "We'll look at the pictures later."

Ronon grinned broadly, then asked, "Can we set up a bar and poker room an… At… uh… at home? I liked that poker room."

McKay said, "You don't play poker."

"Yeah, I do… Corporal Rodriquez has been teaching me."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon, "Ray's quite the poker player… I've lost a few bucks to him."

"He says I have the perfect poker face."

Chuckling, Sheppard replied, "Yeah… that and the blaster… I'd let you win."

Beckett opened a box of chocolate fudge he bought along with the pictures and handed everyone a piece, "Those 'cribs' lining the walls, where the prostitutes plied their trade was interesting. Just a curtain separating them from the rest of the patrons while they…" he raised his shoulders, "you know. Amazing to think how they lived back then. All those famous people that performed there like Caruso and Little Egypt…"

Ronon asked, "That was the belly dancer in the painting hanging in the front?"

"Yeah, and the poker game that went on for how long…"

Sheppard answered, "Eight years, five months, three days."

"Numbers, you always remember the numbers…and don't tell me you could have been Mensa." Rodney stuffed the rest of his piece of fudge in his mouth as an exclamation point.

"Well, laddie, what surprised me was how much it cost to get into that game…a thousand dollars to buy in and over ten million dollars was played during that eight years. When Dean said to buy in today would be thirty thousand dollars, I was shocked."

Sheppard shrugged, "That's why it was the wealthy of the time like Bat Masterson, and Diamond Jim Brady could afford it."

"I liked all the bullet holes…" Sheppard, Beckett, and McKay turned in unison toward Ronon, who simply said, "All the bullet holes and the stories about how they got there…it was cool."

Beckett popped another piece of fudge into his mouth and mumbled, "That hearse, the Black Mariah, was something… so interesting to see a piece of history… think about how many bodies that hearse took to Boothill. Not surprised it's worth two millions dollars now."

"Shhhh…" Sheppard chided, "Looks like the show's about to start."

Quite a crowd had gathered and the stands were full by the time the Clanton-McLaury gang walked in. For the next twenty minutes, the story of the shootout at the OK Corral unfolded in front of them.

When the show ended, Sheppard looked over at Ronon, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Like the show, Chewie?"

"Yeah… they always shoot at each other like that… not taking cover?"

Sheppard whispered, "Pretty fearless. You think they might be related to the Satedans?" Ronon laughed heartily.

As they were walking out, Beckett asked, "The brochure said thirty shots in thirty seconds and the McLaury brothers and Billy Clanton dead, Virgil and Morgan Earp, and Doc Holiday wounded."

"Don't forget Carson, the Earps and Holiday were charged with murder… some claim Virgil shot Clanton point-blank to start the shootout. They went to trial but were found not guilty."

McKay said, "Frontier justice… very civilized."

As they stepped onto the street, Sheppard answered, "More civilized than Canada was at that time, McKay." Sheppard stopped, glancing at his watch. "Okay, it's about 1440 and I'd like to go to Boothill, but first I want something to drink."

"I'd like some ice cream," Beckett said pointing across the street to the ice cream parlor.

"Ice cream it is… let's go," Sheppard replied.

The clip clop sound of a stagecoach approached and they waited to cross the street until the red coach drawn by a couple of bay horses passed. They bought ice cream and drinks, and strolled along the street, window-shopping on the way to the car. They were about to turn the corner toward the Range Rover when Sheppard stopped.

"There's a western wear shop… come on… I want a hat."

McKay dropped his head, "I said he was a kid…"

Beckett grabbed McKay's arm, "I want one, too… now stop whining."

Thirty minutes later, the four friends left the shop, attired in cowboy hats. Sheppard adjusted the black Stetson on his head, smiling, "I always wanted one of these." He checked out Ronon's hat, "Yeah, the dark brown was the best choice for you and for Carson."

Beckett chuckled lowly and tilted his head toward a car parked in front of the lot, where Rodney McKay was peering at his image in the side window. Sheppard walked up and loudly announced, "White hat looks good, Rodney."

McKay jumped, "Damn it, Sheppard… do you have to sneak up like that?"

"Why, yes… McKay… I do… let's go, you can admire yourself while we're driving to Boothill."

The drive to Boothill took less than five minutes. There were only a few dusty cars in the lot, a warm mid-afternoon sun glinting off the metal trim. An old trading post, which appeared to be more tourist trap than trading post, sat across the lot from the main building. They walked toward the main building, Beckett diverted to a tall stone monolith standing next to the building, taking pictures of it.

As he walked back to the group, Sheppard asked him, "What did that plaque say?

"The monument was erected by the American Legion to honor the pioneers, veterans, and settlers."

They walked into the gift shop, which was full of t-shirts, mugs, books, and other items. Sheppard thought so much for the trading post across the street being the only tourist trap.

"Come on, guys, we'll look around in here later, I want to see the cemetery."

Boothill Cemetery sat on a ridge overlooking the expansive valley. The ground was covered in fine gravel; the graves piled with rocks were in nearly even rows spread across the grounds. Small signs marked the majority of the graves, some identified with tall wooded markers curved at the top, and occasional stone markers. A wide variety of cacti grew all over the cemetery; Sheppard recognized prickly pear, yucca, and there was a thin, gnarly dark green cactus he didn't recognized but liked. Many of the plants were in bloom, scattering splotches of pink, yellow, and purple around the predominantly gray cemetery.

"Sheppard, come here." Ronon was standing next to a tall wooden grave marker, "Look." He pointed to the words written on the marker. Sheppard read the inscription aloud.

"Here lies George Johnson Hanged by Mistake 1882 He was right we was wrong but we strung him up and now he's gone."

Sheppard shook his head, "Poor bastard, that'll ruin your day." Ronon only nodded in agreement.

Beckett hollered at them, "John, Ronon, over here."

Beckett and McKay were standing along the second row of graves, Beckett said almost reverently, "Here's the Clanton gang."

A tall marker listed the names of Billy Clanton, Tom McLaury, and Frank McLaury, with the words "murdered on the streets of Tombstone 1881" written below. The graves of the three men sat to the markers left, their name and date on death on individual makers.

Ronon stood quietly staring down at the graves, as McKay and Beckett chatted about which one of the actors from the reenactment was playing the men whose graves lay before them. Sheppard moved closer to the Satedan.

"What are you thinking?"

"I wonder how many men I've…" he paused, realizing there were too many ears around, "you know… how many are resting some place like this because of me."

Sheppard bit his lip, then sighed, "Let's just say, I've had my share, too… but most of yours… well, you took care of those life-sucking bastards. Not the same thing."

"Really, Sheppard? How about Todd?"

Sheppard's eyes darted to his friend's, then he quickly looked away. When he spoke, his voice was cold, "In a heartbeat, if I had needed to."

They wandered around for nearly thirty minutes, finding the grave markers and some of the comments interesting, then spent some time in the gift shop. Sheppard bought Ronon a book and DVD on Tombstone, and a couple of T-shirts for himself. He was checking out when Rodney walked up with a bald eagle sand globe and a jar of hot mustard and a hot pepper sauce.

"McKay, I figure the sand globe is for Madison but the mustard and hot pepper sauce?"

McKay looked a bit embarrassed, "Yes… the globe is for Madison, the other stuff's for Zelenka."

Sheppard eyebrow shot up, "For Radek?"

"Yeah, he likes hot sauce…so I saw it… and I…"

Sheppard spared him further discomfort, "That's nice, Rodney."

Once back in the car, heading back to town, Sheppard announced that the clerk told him about a silver mine tour about a block from where they had parked before.

"Ronon, wanna go check it out?"

"I'd like to."

"Okay then…"

"I'm tired, I don't want to go on any more tours." The unmistakable whine of Rodney McKay came from the back seat.

Sheppard shook his head, "You don't want to go, you don't have to go. You and Carson look around town or head to the Crystal Palace and we'll catch up with you. Sound okay, Carson?"

"Sounds good to me laddie. I could use a cool pint about now."

Parking this time in the parking lot across from the Birdcage, Sheppard and Ronon parted company with McKay and Beckett.

Sheppard pointed in the opposite direction, "The mine is this way. Last tour is at 1600 so we'll have to hustle." They briskly walked to Toughnut Street, then a short block toward a metal arch with the name, Tombstone Consolidated Mines on it.

Shirley, one of the owners according to her nametag, was about to close the tour when they got to the mine office, a small rickety looking hut. She smiled broadly, "You boys almost didn't make it." Sheppard paid for the tickets and she handed them bright green safety vests and plastic hard hats.

"Go on down the stairs, they just went down. And you, big fellow, be extra careful, it's kinda low down there so you're gonna want to duck."

Shirley's husband Andree was their tour guide, his voice drifting up to them as they descended the narrow, steep stairs into the main hall of the mine. Andree was the ex-mayor of Tombstone and he knew every detail of the Good Enough Mine. He regaled them with the story of the original claim holder who named the mine Good Enough, because the vein of silver ore running through it was good enough for him. Nearly a thousand feet long, the mine was spotless, unlike a working mine; Andree hired two men to wash the walls so the tourists could see the ore veins. He chuckled, saying the guys lived underground for nearly six months to make the mine pretty. He also pointed out the splotches of red paint on the wall where he had bumped his head a few times…all considerably lower than Ronon's forehead.

After they returned topside, Sheppard replaced the hard hat with his new Stetson, "I could get used to this hat."

Ronon nodded, "Yeah, like mine, too."

As they headed in the direction of the Crystal Palace, Sheppard asked, "Did Rodney ever figure out if stega was the same as silver?

"He looked at this," Ronon held out a nugget he wore around his neck on a very long leather cord, "and thought the mineral looked very similar and except for possibly some trace minerals that could be in it, was probably the same. Said he run some tests on it when we got back to make certain."

"That's cool, means that there's something in common to our…well, you know."

"Yeah."

The sun was dropping low in the sky as they reached Allen Street. Tourists were milling around on the sidewalks, some heading to their cars, other heading toward the many saloons in along the old street.

"There's the Crystal Palace." Sheppard motioned to the building across the street. As Sheppard started to cross the street, Ronon grabbed his arm.

"Sheppard, thanks…I like this place."

"No thanks needed…I like it, too."

"McKay doesn't."

Sheppard shrugged, "Rodney doesn't always know what he likes. He's spent his entire life in a lab or a classroom; I'm not even certain he understood what fun was when he was a kid. My feeling is he's enjoying this more than he'll ever let on. But don't worry about him, we'll make him have fun."

The day's bright sunlight was fading into the yellow pinks of sunset, as they entered the Crystal Palace Saloon. Sheppard and Ronon's boots created a scuffing noise as they walked across the old wooden floor. The light was dimming; red curtains over the windows cast a rosy glow over the tables, where only a few diners sat at such an early hour.

Ronon tapped Sheppard on the shoulder pointing to the bar, where McKay and Beckett were sitting, chatting with a barmaid. Sheppard nodded, "Those boys are doing okay on this trip."

The young woman walked away as they approached the bar, but smiled coyly at Sheppard and Ronon. As Sheppard slipped onto the barstool next to Beckett, he noticed the barmaid speaking to another woman, pointing toward them. He sighed silently, too bad they were behaving themselves on this trip, the servers' costumes were quite nice. He turned his attention to his friend, "Carson, having fun?"

Beckett turned his entire body toward Sheppard, "Aye, laddie…that I am." His bright blue eyes were slightly glassy, a definite tell the Scot had a bit to drink. Sheppard was about to ask McKay how many beers Carson had consumed but the scientist's flush pink cheeks, unquestionably not the result of sunburn, revealed he'd probably kept up.

Glancing at Ronon, he asked their friends, "You guys eaten anything?"

"Waiting for you laddie."

Sheppard grabbed a menu and motioned for the bartender, "Can we have a order of BBQ wings and two orders of onions rings."

The bartender nodded, "Coming up, what can I get you boys to drink?"

Sheppard nodded at Ronon, who ordered a shot of tequila. Sheppard tapped the bar's smooth surface and said, "Jack…Black."

"So, how was the mine?" McKay asked.

"Interesting," Sheppard answered, "Remember the basement room in the Birdcage where the mine shaft opened into?" McKay nodded a bit too vigorously. "Well, according to the guide Tombstone was built overtop of the silver veins. But when the ore ran out the town died, only coming back to life when they made a tourist attraction out of it."

Rodney grinned broadly, "That's nice," and then motioned to the bartender for another beer.

"McKay, how many beers have you had?"

"This is my third…" Beaming he pointed at the mug.

"Okay…"

Beckett bumped Sheppard with his shoulder, "Laddie that's not scotch."

"No…decided I wanted whiskey since we were in the _Wild West_."

Beckett giggled, "That's… good." He lifted his beer mug, "Here's to the wild west."

"Sheppard shook his head, pushing a small bowl of nuts in front of his friend, "Carson, eat some peanuts."

As the next hour passed, people began drifting into the saloon. Beckett and McKay devoured the ribs and onion rings, and had sobered up a bit. Carson perked up considerably when a group of tourists entered, their Scottish accents unmistakable.

Hopping off the stool, Beckett announced, "Got some kinfolk here, gotta go talk to the lads."

Sheppard looked around, noticing the tables were getting full, "Let's get a table, order dinner. It's been a long day; I wouldn't mind getting back to the hotel fairly early."

They settled in at a table next to the doctor's new friends. When Beckett noticed he joined his teammates, his smile beaming. "The lads are all football fans, belong to the Six Nations Supporters club. Their wives are on a trip to Rome together, so they decided to visit the Old West, been in the US for three days. I told them we'd have a drink with them before we leave. If that's okay with you lads?"

"Sounds good to me; I'm hungry, let's order."

Everyone ordered the big rib eye, with grilled cowboy potatoes and ranch beans, and another round of drinks. As they waited for the food, Ronon asked Beckett about his friends.

"Football in Scotland, is it like the football Sheppard showed us?"

Beckett smiled, "Nah, laddie... it is a rough and tumble game, not a sissy game like the Americans play."

"Hey, I resent that," Sheppard teased, "I played football."

McKay snarked, "You played football, Sheppard? You never told us that."

Sheppard's eyes shifted from one friend to another, "Sure I did…" No one moved, just kept staring at him.

McKay said, "No… you didn't tell us. You showed us the Hail Mary film but never told us you played."

"Well, I was a quarterback in high school, running back for the Falcons until I bummed up my knee. I quit the team, to let my knee heal, because I preferred skiing and didn't want to do anymore damage."

"You skied for the Academy?"

Sheppard nodded, "The one thing my father, and I had in common was that he loved to ski, took us skiing every chance he could. The Academy offered competitive skiing through the ski club, so I decided to ski only, instead of play football after my third…uh sophomore… year. We were allowed to compete in amateur ski competitions."

Beckett sighed, "Too bad it's still a bit early for skiing; I'd like to see you ski."

Sheppard's brow raised, "Been a long time, I'm a bit rusty."

Ronon asked, "Did you win?"

The right corner of Sheppard's mouth turned up slightly, a faraway look in his eye, "Yeah, most of the time."

Ronon was full of questions about skiing and kept them occupied until the food arrived. They dived into the food, silent while they savored the steaks.

McKay made an "ummm" sound and Beckett laughed, "Rodney, I think we've finally found something you like."

His mouth full, Rodney mumbled, "Really good steak…"

"Mind your manners, McKay," Sheppard mumbled, having just taken a bite of steak as well. "This steak does live up to its reputation." He washed down the bite with the remainder of his drink, and called the barmaid over.

The young woman who was chatting with Beckett and McKay earlier came over, "What can I do for you handsome?"

"Another round for everyone, please."

"For you, anything…be back in a jiff." She smiled at Sheppard, then Ronon before she trotted off.

McKay looked at Beckett, "That took longer than I expected?"

Sheppard asked, as he was about to devour a forkful of potatoes, "What took longer?"

"For the waitresses to hit on you and Ronon."

"Give it a rest, McKay," Sheppard answered testily. An irritated look from Ronon shut McKay up.

They finished their meal about the same time the Scottish football fans, and one of group stood up, "Carson, why don't you and your friends join us for a round?"

Beckett looked to his friends, who all agreed, and the four joined the Scotsmen; an hour and a half later, Sheppard knew his desire for an early evening wasn't going to materialize. The Scots were fun, regaling them with stories of rugby games, pub-crawls, and their families. Two of the group, Ian and Mark, former rugby players, took a great liking to Ronon and were trying to figure out how they could make him a Scot, so he could play for the Scottish national team. Another, Fenton, was a former Royal Navy enlisted man, a plane captain on a British carrier. He and Sheppard chatted about jet fighters.

Drinks were flowing freely; Sheppard had lost count on how many pitchers of beer had been delivered to the table. The Friday night crowd seemed to be a mix of tourists and locals, and the saloon was getting crowded. Sheppard had continued drinking Jack Daniels, but decided if they were going to make it back to the hotel, he needed to switch to a non-alcoholic drink.

He also decided he needed a trip to the head. As he got up, Beckett asked, "Where ya going laddie? Not leaving, are ya?"

"Just going that way," he pointed toward the back of the saloon, "I'll be right back."

He made his way through the crowd toward the restrooms. When he emerged, he spotted one of the barmaids who had been serving them. He slipped up next to her, "Hey."

She whirled around, "Ooh…must be my lucky day."

"Sorry, no…I just wanted to tell you to make my drinks ginger ale from now on: I'm driving."

"There you go, getting my hopes up…but sure, I'll bring you unleaded drinks from now on." She was smiling, but her smiled faded as she glanced toward the front entrance.

Sheppard tracked her gaze, spotting four young men entering the saloon. Looking back at the barmaid, he saw a look of panic on her face. "Something about those guys you don't like?"

She looked startles, "Uh…no…uh…well, they've been known to cause problems. One of them has been harassing my friend, Jill; she's the blond next to the bar. He doesn't like the word no."

He sucked in a deep breath; he hated bullies, "Look, maybe they'll behave themselves."

"Dream on, mister; Tom Howard and his friends, never behave themselves. Gotta go…new table."

She walked away, but not before Sheppard noticed, she took another furtive glance at the Tom and his entourage. Sheppard decided he'd keep an eye on them as well; his spidy sense was kicking in and it what it was telling him wasn't good.

The numerous pitchers of beer were beginning to kick in and the Scottish lads, Beckett included, were getting a bit rowdy. Ronon went the head and came back, pulling a chair from another table, next to Sheppard's.

"What's got your attention?"

"Never can hide anything from you…see those four guys at the bar?"

"Yeah, noticed them come in, the bartender reacted to them, figured they might be a problem."

"Well, according to the little brunette waiting on us, the guy in the white shirt is stalking the blond waitress standing with her right now."

"Got that look about him."

"Well, we're not here to start anything or stop anything for that matter. Just keep an eye on the girls, don't want them hurt."

Ronon leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out, nursing a mug of beer, as he kept an eye on the four men at the bar. The next round of drinks came, a ginger ale for Sheppard, and everything appeared to be calm, but Sheppard recognized the signs. The stalker was getting antsy and was watching every move Jill was making.

The Scottish tourists were getting a bit more vocal, laughing and making toasts. Tom and his friends began to take notice of them, throwing angry glances toward the guys.

Mark stood up and made a toast, and began singing a Scottish rugby song, the rest of them joining in. Beckett was singing louder than any of them, his face red from all the beer he had consumed. They sang two choruses of the rugby song, then launched into another Scottish song.

Sheppard was somewhat surprised to see many of the other patrons clapping and smiling, but he noted one young man was not. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jill heading for the table with a couple more pitchers of beer. When she arrived, Ian and one of the others threw their arms around her, bringing her into the group. As he straightened a bit in his chair anticipating a problem, Sheppard heard the legs of Ronon's chair hit the worn wooden floor.

Tom bolted from his chair, his friends behind him, and crossed the narrow restaurant to reach the table. He grabbed Ian's arm and jerked the tall, beefy Scot around.

"You keep your filthy hands off her."

Ian threw up his hands, "Sorry, laddie, no harm; we're just having fun here. The wee lass has been sweet to us, and we wanted her to join in."

"The wee lass…who the fuck do you think you are. I said get your hand…"

Jill grabbed Tom, "Stop it; they're just having fun. They aren't doing anything. But you are, now go away…and take you friends with you."

Tom glared at her, "You bitch, you like this running around in this costume having this men stare at you…well, I don't like it."

Sheppard and Ronon were on their feet. Through the din, he heard McKay yell, " Not again…"

Sheppard had almost reached Tom, when Jill shouted, "I don't care what you…" A slap across her face from Tom silenced her, a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.

Ian decked Tom with an uppercut to the jaw. Tom recoiled, blood dripping from his nose, then lunged at Ian. Sheppard was about to grab Tom when one of the stalker's friends threw a punch at him, glancing off his jaw as he ducked. Spinning around, Sheppard took out his attacker with a quick blow to the guy's chin. Mark subdued another member of Tom's group, and Ronon had one of the others in a chokehold. The guy passed out and Ronon dropped him to the floor, then reached for Tom.

Grabbing Tom by the collar, Ronon said gruffly, "You don't hit women." He drew back his fist, but Sheppard seized his arm.

"No, let the police handle this." He tilted his head toward the door as several of Tombstone's finest arrived.

The Tombstone marshal and his deputies herded the Scots, Sheppard, and his team, Jill, and the four locals into a private dining room. Carson tended to Jill and Tom's injuries until an EMT squad arrived.

The marshal spent some time talking with the owner of the Crystal Palace, while his deputies took statements from everyone. Once he finished with the owner, the marshal conferred with his deputies, then walked over to where Sheppard was sitting. As he started to stand up, the marshal motioned him to remain seated, and sat down himself.

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm Marshal Dane…been one of those nights."

"Yes sir, it has. What do you need from us?"

"We got statements from everyone, Tom and his friend Billy will be charged with assault. The other two boys, well…we'll see, they waded into the fight, but Tom's a bad influence…might let them go, hoping they've learned their lesson."

"Marshall, my friends and I are on leave, when we return to duty, we're going to be difficult to reach. Do you think you'll need us to testify?"

"I don't think so, Colonel. But this contact number you gave us, if we need anything the prosecutor can get in touch with you here?"

"That you can."

The marshal stood up, and Sheppard followed suit. "Colonel, thanks for helping keep this from being a real free for all. Jill's parents came and got her, she's gonna be fine. Everything's back to normal in the saloon, you're free to go any time." They shook hands, and the marshal left.

Sheppard turned to his teammates, "You guy's ready to head to the hotel?"

Ronon nodded, and Rodney answered, "Yes, I am…" Rodney's words were slurred, he was still feeling the effects of the beer.

"Me, too." He looked over at Carson who was talking to his new friends. "Carson, you ready to go back to Tucson?" Still a bit, glassy-eyed, Carson nodded.

They said their goodbyes to the guys from Scotland and headed out through the saloon. Sheppard stopped to pay the bill and was nearly at the door when he realized he didn't have his Stetson. He turned around to find Jill's friend running toward him with his hat.

"Here, I was waiting for you to come out. Thanks, mister, to all of you; maybe Jill will finally be rid of that jerk."

"Thanks," he said, taking his hat, "let's hope so. You take care."

"You come back and see us, handsome."

Sheppard joined his friends on the sidewalk, and they walked to the Rover. By the time they passed the city limits, McKay and Beckett were sound asleep in the back seat.

Ronon stretched as far as he could in the front seat; he glanced over at Sheppard, "You want me to drive?"

"Maybe, once we get on the four-lane road. You've never driven at night?"

"No."

"Well, there's always a first time."

"What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Not one damn thing."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard woke with a start, his heart pounding until he realized he was lying in bed in his hotel room. The dream that awakened him still fresh in his mind. He was walking down a dusty street, spurs jangling, his hand resting on the smooth wooden grip of the six-shooter strapped to his hip. There was trouble in the saloon, and as he approached the few people on the street parted to let him pass. He pushed the swinging doors open and entered the dark chamber.

A saloon girl, waiting on a table, pointed toward the bar where the apparent troublemaker was sitting. The man was tall, long silver hair trailing below a scruffy hat, a shot glass in front of him. He called out to the man, who flipped a coin toward the bartender and turned to face him. It was Todd…

He shook off the dream, whispering in a raspy voice, "No more drinking, John." At least, there were no Wraith queens in the dream so it wasn't a nightmare, he thought as he rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the clock; it was 0735, too early to get up. It was just before 0200 when they arrived back at the hotel, and although exhausted, he showered before collapsing into bed. For once he decided, he was sleeping in; the bed was comfortable, the sheets smooth, and he was cozy. He turned onto his left side, slipping into sleep.

When he woke again, nearly two hours had passed. Sheppard stretched, still not enthusiastic about moving from the comfortable bed, but forced himself to throw back the covers and stumble to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he wandered onto the Core Kitchen, coffee his main objective. The hostess smiled as he walked in, and pointed toward a table where Carson Beckett sat, a carafe of coffee and one of orange juice in front of him. Sheppard could tell from across the room that Beckett was feeling the alcohol from last night.

Dropping into a seat across from Beckett, Sheppard asked, "I thought coffee was not good for hangovers."

Beckett stared at him, "Laddie this morning, I'll try anything."

"You Scots do know how to party."

"Aye, we gie it laldy last night." Beckett dropped his head into his hands.

"I've learned a lot of Scottish slang on this trip, but I have no idea what you just said."

Despite his obvious discomfort, Beckett smiled, "Gie it laldy means to give whatever you're doing a hundred percent effort. To Scots, that means drinking and partying with gusto."

"Gusto is exactly what you and your Scottish buddies did last night. But those were some good guys; I enjoyed meeting them."

"That they were, glad we ran into them. Nice to have a little touch of home."

Sheppard didn't comment, prompting Beckett to ask, "John, why don't you go see your brother?"

Distracting himself by pouring a cup of coffee and then taking a sip, Sheppard finally answered, "I've been thinking about it. I'd like to see Miss Gilly. Haven't seen her since my father died, and I was thinking about going to see my aunt in Louisiana. Don't know, Carson, never had the connection to my family like you have. Sometimes the desire is there to see them, but…"

"Your brother, you two patched things up, didn't ya?"

Sheppard chewed on his lower lip, pausing before he spoke, "We… we came to an understanding… probably had the most honest conversation we've ever had after our father died. But we have so little in common; Dave's all about the money, the prestige, the power. I…I never wanted any of that."

"Well, laddie, what you do have in common is your mother. You can't tell me that Dave wasn't just as devastated to lose her as you were."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed, "He had my father to help him through that time."

"You had Miss Gilly, didn't you?"

"Yeah… and Aunt Adelise… maybe… I should go see her."

"I went home to Avonbridge after we got back, it was good to go home. See those things we cherished as a child, even those things that gave us pain."

Sheppard was thankful he was saved from answering as the server arrived with Beckett's breakfast and took his order.

"Greasy fried eggs and bacon? Good move; that'll help chase the queasiness away."

"Hope so, laddie."

"Where's Ronon and McKay?"

Beckett was about to shove a forkful of fried egg into his mouth, "Ronon's been up for hours, think he went to workout and then to the pool. McKay slammed the phone down in my ear, saying he was ordering from room service and to leave him alone."

"Rodney tried to keep up with you; he needs to learn better. I think a morning by the pool would be a good thing, you up to it?"

"That was my plan, let the sun bake the beer out of me."

Sheppard and Beckett wandered out to the pool after they finished breakfast. The warm mid-morning sun cast bright glare off the crystal water. Sheppard was about to arrange for a cabana when Beckett spotted Ronon stretched out on a deck chair underneath one of the white canopies scattered poolside.

Ronon rose up as they approached, "'Bout time you two got here."

"You're awfully chipper this morning," Sheppard said as he dropped his sunglasses and phone onto one of the chairs.

"Had some cobwebs but swimming chased them away."

"Worked, huh? Think I'll find out for myself." He pulled off his t-shirt, and slipped off his jeans, swimsuit on underneath, and quickly dove into the pool.

The water was cool but refreshing; he swam hard for several minutes, then rolled onto his back, feeling the sun warm his chest. He let his mind wander for a while, as he drifted across the pool. A shadow passed over him and he opened his eyes to see Ronon on the edge of the pool, standing over him.

"You're about to bump your head."

Sheppard rolled over, swam a short stroke to the edge, and push himself out of the water. "Time I got out anyway, thanks for the warning."

He followed Ronon back to the cabana, where Beckett was sound asleep. Ronon snorted, "Good thing, the only other people out here are at the other end…his snoring would wake the dead."

Laughing, Sheppard replied, as he grabbed a towel, "Remember the time we went with him when he was treating the Cenars. Where we had to sleep in that big tent with everyone in the village? They thought he was dying… apparently, none of them snore."

"They were scared to death but did everything he told them from that point on."

"It was pretty funny," Sheppard nodded, finished drying off, and plopped down on a lounger sitting in the sun. "Right now, a nap seems like a good idea."

It was nearly 1300 before McKay wandered down to the pool. Ronon and Carson were swimming; Sheppard was under the cabana watching a movie on his pad.

"Glad you decided to get up and join us."

McKay frowned and plopped down, "I've been awake, just needed some down time."

"We boring you?"

"No…my head hurt and after all that noise and music last night, I just wanted some peace and quiet."

"Oh… I see… you were hung over."

"I was not hung over."

"Yes you were."

McKay started to argue, but folded his arms across his chest and remained quiet.

"McKay… what's eating you?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, don't play Ronon with me… he's the one who doesn't talk."

"Right, flyboy… like you're Mr. Communicator."

"Mr. Communicator? That the best you can do?"

A long sigh was all Sheppard received in reply. He put down his pad and turned toward McKay, "Did you call Zelenka?"

"Yeah…"

"Don't make me pull it out of you … what's wrong?"

McKay winced, "Zelenka said he thinks those goons from Area 51 found something in the database, and they won't tell him what. I called Lee and he said he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Rodney, you know those guys from 51, you told me when we were back at Cheyenne Mountain after the Tria showed up they got over excited about everything. Whatever they found you've probably discovered and already forgotten."

"I don't know…I just have this feeling…"

Sheppard leaned back in the lounger, "It's the hangover…"

"I am not hung over."

Beckett was out of the pool, walking toward him, "Well, I was this morning laddie, and you drank nearly as much as I did."

"Watch it…you're getting water everywhere. And I was not hung over…"

Sheppard shook his head, and waved his hand at Beckett, "Give a rest, Carson; it's not worth it."

Beckett sat down, "I've worked up an appetite, how's lunch sound."

"I could eat," McKay offered.

"I bet you can," Sheppard answered, chuckling. "Let's get Ronon out of the pool and get some food."

~ooOoo~

The sun was setting, as Sheppard and Ronon grabbed a table on the patio at Cayton's, the restaurant of the hotel's golf club. The sky was turning a pale slate blue, with a splash of purple, pink, and orange radiating from the setting sun.

Ronon pointed, "Those plants…"

"The Saguaro cactus?"

"Yeah…those things are really cool."

The server brought their beers, and neither man spoke for a bit, simply enjoying their beer and the sun setting behind the tall, branching Saguaros.

Sheppard had drunk half his beer before Ronon asked, "They meeting us here?"

"Yeah, Carson called while you were changing shoes, they were about to leave the hotel, should be here soon."

"Good, I'm hungry."

"Oh yeah…like that's new…"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Sheppard flashed Ronon a sharp glare, then broke into a broad grin, "That's it, time to wrap up this trip; you're beginning to sound like McKay."

Ronon grinned in return, took a swig of beer, and announced, "I like golf."

"I'm not surprised, golf requires athletic ability, but a lot of it's a head game, a game of skill and finesse. You need to think, reason out what you need to do, and have a lot of patience, and execute. That fits you buddy."

The Satedan was silent, and Sheppard didn't prod him to answer. Ronon took another long swig on his beer before he answered.

"For so long I had to use those skills in a game to stay alive…to use them in a game for fun takes some getting use to."

"It's about time you had some fun, Chewie; you're way overdue."

"So are you."

"Guess we all needed a vacation."

Sheppard motioned to the server to bring another couple of beers, as McKay and Beckett arrived. Sheppard waved them over.

"Beer?"

"I'll take one, John."

McKay shook his head, "No…done enough of that. I'll have a club soda."

Drinks ordered, Sheppard asked, "So what did you guys do while we were playing golf?"

Carson answered, "We took a walk, then we sat in the lobby and watched the people for a while, then we played chess."

"I played a game of chess; I don't know what he was playing," McKay snarked.

"I beat ya, Rodney." Beckett beamed impishly.

It was Sheppard's turn to grin, "You beat Rodney, way to go Carson."

McKay sputtered, "One time out of three games."

"I beat you all the time."

"In your dreams, Sheppard."

Beckett wisely, changed the subject. "So, John how was the golf game?"

"It was good, Ronon damn near beat me."

Beckett cocked his head, "Not bad, Ronon…John's a very good golfer."

Sheppard grunted, "May have a lot to do with how long he hits the ball…par five he can hit the green in less than two drives…unnerving. Good thing we were walking the course by ourselves today. I'd be embarrassed."

Ronon was halfway through his second beer, "It's fun."

Sighing, Sheppard said, "If he ever learns to putt really well, I'm putting him on the PGA tour, no one will touch him."

"Aye, laddie, I don't doubt that. Never was great at golf, so I decided to stick to fishing."

Twilight was fading into darkness over the desert; torches on the patio provided a warm glow as the four friends sat staring into the shadows. One by one, the stars revealed themselves; Sheppard pointed toward an area of the sky, and whispered, "Home's that way."

Sitting next to Sheppard, Beckett answered quietly, "We'll go back, laddie; I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, we will." Sheppard stood up, "Let's go eat, then make an early night of it. I hear they have great burgers and ribs here…I'm hungry."

"Where we going tomorrow?" Ronon asked.

As they walked inside, Sheppard answered, "I called Davis-Monthan Air Base, they run one of the largest boneyards, and there's a great Air Museum next to the base… thought it would be fun to tour. We're to meet Colonel Ralph Gates tomorrow for lunch at the officer's club, then we get a personal tour. After that we'll go over to the Pima Air and Space Museum."

Beckett asked, "What's a boneyard?"

"It's where old or surplus planes and helicopters are stored."

McKay snarked, "Seriously, old planes?"

"Yep, McKay, and you're going to have fun."

McKay hesitated outside the restaurant doorway, uttering a soft groan, then followed his friends inside.

~ooOoo~

At 1145 hours, Sheppard turned off the four-lane road and stopped at the gate at Davis-Monthan. After checking their credentials, the MPs directed them to the Officer's Mess, located near the flight line.

As they parked, Beckett asked, "John, what do these people know about Atlantis?"

Sheppard shut off the engine, and looked over his shoulder, "Absolutely nothing to my knowledge… doubt even the base commander knows about us, since we're part of the military's most classified unit. No talking about Atlantis, or other worlds or anything. Ronon, remember your cover story, civilian contractor originally from Hawaii."

Ronon nodded, and as they got out, Sheppard added, "And Rodney, you might want to lie about being from Canada…"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Colonel Ralph Gates, commander of the 55th Rescue Squadron met them inside. "Colonel Sheppard, welcome to Davis."

"Colonel Gates, thanks so much for having us. I'd like to introduce Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Ronon Dex; all civilian contractors with the Air Force, and members of my team."

"Welcome, gentlemen, glad to have you on base. Colonel, some of the members of my squadron are waiting for us in the private dining room."

After introducing the other members of his squadron, they sat down. As lunch was served, Gates asked Sheppard, "Are you the same John Sheppard, who was a member of this squadron when it was attached to Hurlburt?"

Sheppard answered; a tad guarded, "Yes I am…was at Hurlburt from 94 through 98…right after I switched to flying helos."

"Unusual career move, Colonel."

"That it was, but as much as I loved flying jets, I sort of had a knack for choppers."

"That's why I asked if you were the same Sheppard, I have a Master Sergeant here, Dom Pontella, who tells me you were the best chopper pilot he ever served with."

Sheppard chewed on his bottom lip for a second, "Pontella's a master sergeant; he was an airman when I knew him…good guy."

"That he is, and invaluable to my command. If you don't mind, I've arranged for him to give you and your team the boneyard tour."

"That would be an honor, Colonel."

They spent the rest of lunch talking about the changes in the 55th, finding some personnel they served with in common, and trading war stories. When lunch was over, they exited the Officers Mess to find Pontella waiting for them. The sergeant was leaning against an open humvee, arms crossed.

"Well, well…Colonel…John Sheppard…who'd have thought? Guess since you're in civvy's sir... I don't have to salute you."

Sheppard strode over to the humvee, hand outstretched, "You…Master Sergeant… are a sight for sore eyes."

Pontella said, "Ah hell, good to see you, sir." He hugged Sheppard, who awkwardly patted the master sergeant on the back.

"You, too. Never thought I'd see you again."

"Me neither; I heard you were sent to McMurdo, glad to see you thawed out."

Laughing, Sheppard replied, "Me, too. Come on, let me introduce my friends to you."

They piled into the humvee, which was outfitted with upholstered benches in the back and headed into the boneyard.

They drove through row after row of outdated or unneeded planes and helicopters, Pontella stopping to point out a special plane or when Sheppard asked him to halt when he spotted a plane or helicopter, he was interested in.

As they walked around an old B-52 bomber, Beckett asked, "Why all the Army, Marine and Navy planes here… I thought this was an Air Force base?

Pontella answered, "Air Force Material Command's 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group is headquartered here. The group is better known as the sole aircraft boneyard for all excess military and government aircraft. Our dry location allows for the best preservation of the aircraft."

Ronon asked, "Why keep 'em?"

Sheppard answered his question, "Unfortunately, there could come a time when we might need to refurbish them and put them back into action. There are still a lot of volatile areas in the world, never know when they'll flare up. A lot of these planes have been cannibalized for parts, or had engines and other equipment removed for storage."

They spent nearly two hours roaming the boneyard, viewing areas the tours groups from the Pima Museum couldn't access. Pontella returned them to the Officer's Mess where the Rover was parked.

After the others said their good-byes to Pontella, Sheppard held back. "Dom, it's been really great to see you again."

"You, too, Colonel. Listen I heard about the divorce, sorry."

"No problem, it was for the best. How 'bout you? Still married to the lovely Genell?"

"Yes, sir, you remembered; she'll be thrilled…kids, Mario and Leia, both in high school." He hesitated, then said, "You know I never believed some of the things I heard. Those of us who knew you well, knew whatever you did you did for the right reasons." Sheppard didn't answer, and Pontella continued, "I hope whatever it is you're doing now you're happy."

"I am, glad you are. Listen, you ever want a change of scenery, get in touch with me. I'd love to have you on my team."

"Thanks, Colonel but I'm pretty happy, got my twenty in, once the kids are out of college, Genny and I are going buy a little bed and breakfast and live the good life."

"You take care, Dom." Sheppard shook his hand, and turned toward the car.

Pontella called after him, and Sheppard turned around. The master sergeant smiled, "The hell with regs, Colonel John Sheppard." He saluted Sheppard, who returned the salute.

"Thanks, Master Sergerant."

Sheppard was quiet as they exited the base and headed the short distance from the gate to the Pima Museum. McKay broke the silence as they pulled into the museum driveway.

"Have to admit, Sheppard, that was interesting. I knew the boneyards existed but didn't realize how big they really are."

"I think Davis is the largest, Pontella said there's over 5000 aircraft there; but there are others scattered across the southwestern US."

Beckett asked, "What do they do with them?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Eventually I think they sell them for scrap or to collectors. At least, the ones they don't want to keep in reserve in case they're needed. Millions and millions of dollars sitting in that desert."

He found a place to park, "Let's go check this place out… there's a space exhibit…" Sheppard grinned, "thought we might enjoy seeing what being in outer space would be like."

For the next two hours, they wandered through the exhibits of World War II planes, experimental aircraft, and other flying craft. A stop at the museum store and by 1715, they were headed back to Tucson.

As he exited the museum grounds, Sheppard asked, "Carson, did you get one of those bomber jackets?"

"Yeah, I did…"

"You know I can get you a real one if you want it?"

"Not necessary, I like this one…"

Sheppard looked back at McKay, "You find something for Madison?"

"Yeah, got her a book on airplanes and a jacket."

Beckett snickered, "And he bought himself one of those Hawaiian looking shirts with the planes all over them."

"Seriously? McKay…you have no taste in clothes."

"Leave me alone. I like it."

Sheppard laughed, "Just warn us before you wear it."

Beckett said, "I loved that little plane that looked like a bumble bee."

"The Starr Bumble Bee is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the smallest air craft ever flown. That little plane will cruise at 180 mph." Sheppard added, "Bit cramped for my taste, and I've been in some cramped cockpits."

"I liked the fire trucks we saw on the way out, and the barracks. Reminded me of the barracks on Sateda." Ronon remarked, then asked Sheppard, "You ever stay in barracks like that?"

"Yeah, close to it at McMurdo…but as an officer, I got a bit more privacy…but not much. McKay, didn't you stay in barracks when the SGC sent you to Russia to work on their gate?"

McKay glared at Sheppard, "Gee…thanks for reminding me."

Beckett asked, "So, where to now?"

"How 'bout an early dinner, then head back to the hotel. We need to decide where we want to go from here, so I thought we'd scope out some locations tonight. We'll leave sometime tomorrow or maybe the next day. I could do with another day around the pool and another round of golf."

"Another restful day would be nice," Beckett said.

"Where are we going to eat?" McKay asked.

Sheppard shuddered, "You checked him for a tapeworm, Carson?"

"No, but I might need to, laddie."

McKay just frowned, and sat back in the seat, arms crossed.

"I asked the concierge for a recommendation of a landmark Tucson restaurant, and he told me about the El Charro, it's the oldest Mexican Restaurant in Tuscon. Thought it might be fun to check out. Love Mexican food and we haven't had any yet."

Sheppard took a more scenic drive from the museum into Tucson. Downtown was a mix of modern glass and brick buildings and adobe structures with tile roofs, some painted in vibrant colors. They passed by a beautiful cathedral called St. Augustine, its twin bell towers framed by tall palm trees. The architecture of the aged church was decidedly old Mexico.

Across the street a building caught Ronon's eye. "Doc, what's a Scottish Rite Cathedral?"

Beckett turned to see what Ronon was talking about, "Ah…that's a Masonic group…part of the Freemasons. It's a group of people who claim they are simply like-minded people for meet for spiritual and intellectual enlightment. My mum's brothers were freemasons…lots of famous people belonged through the ages."

McKay added, "Some people think the Masons are a group of people who want to rule the world."

Sheppard asked, "You believe that McKay?"

"Uh… I don't know… I don't know much about them."

Beckett continued, "Well, me uncles were not conspirators unless you count trying to get an extra pint at the pub, when the barkeep wasn't looking."

They continued by the Tuscon convention center, a large one-story complex, and headed north for the original location of El Charro, passing colorfully painted apartment complexes and parking garages, and the rosy pink Tucson Covention and Toursit Bureau. As they turned onto the street where the restaurant was located, they entered into an older section of town.

The El Charro was located in Tucson's historic district. Its patio and lounge area was built of dark yellow stucco connected to the restaurant proper, which was located in an old stone house, the front covered with large glass windows, several dark-red benches sitting along the curb. At the front door, a host stood behind a wood podium, ready to seat guests. Sheppard parked in the large lot across the street, and exited the car. He opened the rear hatch and got out his Stetson.

McKay came around the Rover, "You wearing that?"

"Yep, won't have too many times to wear it once we get back to…well, home… thought I'd get some use out of it."

"I left mine at the hotel."

"You can wear yours tomorrow Rodney."

"Why are you wearing it, you're just going to take it off when you walk in the restaurant. It's less than fifty feet away."

Sheppard sat the Stetson on his head, "Yeah... I know. Come on, Beckett and Ronon are already inside."

The interior was colorful and crowded, almost all the tables taken, and it was just past 1800 hours. Sheppard and McKay joined their friends at a table next to the window in the corner. A lively server took their orders, while chips and salsa were served by an assistant. Everyone, save Rodney, ordered Negra Modelo's, along with guacamole and tortilla chips, and a plate of mini-chimichangas.

The beer and appetizers came quickly, and they dove into the dips.

"Um…good guacamole," Beckett mumbled, mouth full of the creamy green dip. He swallowed and continued, "I'll never forget the first time me mum tried guacamole. My sister Diane had just gotten married, and she was learning to cook and decided to experiment and make a Mexican meal. She served this bowl of green stuff with chips, and Mum just stared at it. She looked at my sister and asked her if she'd served baby food as a way of telling us she was pregnant." He laughed, "Diane wasn't and was really upset; Mum was a bit embarrassed, but she ate the guacamole and said she liked it. I don't think Diane ever believed her."

Sheppard laughed, "Diane's a sweetheart, really like her."

Beckett appeared confused, "When did you…" Then he realized his friends met his sisters when they attended his funeral. "Oh…sometimes I forget."

"So do we, Carson."

Between the crowd and the lively music, the restaurant was noisy so their conversation was sporadic and short. The server brought their entrees, El Charro's signature dish, the carne seca chimichanga. The serving was huge and came with rice and beans.

Ronon's eyebrows raised, "This looks like a dish my mother used to make."

Sheppard asked, "She air-dry the meat on the roof like they do here?"

Shrugging, Ronon said, "No…but it was made of dried beef and rolled in dough and fried. It was good."

"Dig in and we'll see how good this is."

As they finished the meal, Ronon announced, "This was good."

McKay answered, "Yeah... it was good…not even a big fan of Mexican, but I like it."

Sheppard chuckled, "We've finally found something Rodney doesn't hate. It's a good day." He didn't give McKay time to respond, "You guys ready to go?" When everyone said yes, Sheppard motioned for the bill.

When the server brought it, Beckett snatched it from Sheppard's hand, "This one's on me, laddie."

Although he hesitated, Sheppard said, "Okay…it's on you." He stood up, "I'm gonna hit the head, then go outside; get away from this noise."

Ronon said, "Meet you outside."

When Sheppard returned to the dining room, Beckett was paying the bill, and Ronon was standing on the sidewalk. Sheppard joined him, "Where's McKay?"

"Went to the gift shop."

"Poor Madison, wonder if she'll like half of what…" A scream and a gunshot rang out, stopping Sheppard in his tracks.

A black van was parked across the street along the curb. In the parking lot, two men had grabbed two teenage girls as they were getting into a car. The mother jumped out of the front seat running after the men, who were forcing the girls into the van. On the ground next to the car, a man lay bleeding from a gunshot wound to the chest.

Ronon raced across the street, just as one of the men grabbed the mother, yelling for him to let the woman go, but the man raised a weapon and fired three quick shots. As Sheppard watched, Ronon fell lifeless to the ground. He realized he had no way to defend himself, but Sheppard kept running toward the van. He was near the van when he heard Beckett's voice screaming, 'Colonel,' but he didn't stop. As he reached the van, he grabbed one of the masked men, as Beckell yelled, 'Colonel Sheppard' again. A second man struck Sheppard in the head with the butt of a handgun, "Get him inside," he told the other man, "a colonel might be a valuable hostage."

McKay exited the gift shop in time to see Sheppard being thrown into the van, which then sped away. As he stood on the sidewalk, the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. Beckett was running toward Ronon as people began to spill out of the restaurant, but only one thing caught McKay's attention. Sheppard's Stetson was lying in the middle of street and John Sheppard was gone.

~ooOoo~

The revolving blue and red lights from the police and fire units bathed Rodney in eerie unnatural light as he stooped to pick up Sheppard's Stetson from the middle of the street. He felt paralyzed… numb… as he watched Beckett and the paramedics attending to Ronon. John… John was gone, thrown into the back of a black van… along with the woman and two girls he was trying to protect. He turned toward one of the ambulances, where the woman's husband was being loaded for transport, a thick bandage covering the gunshot wound to his chest.

Beckett ran over to him, "Rodney… I'm gonna go with Ronon; they'll bring ya to the hospital."

"How is he?"

"Not good, not good at all… he's not breathing on his own." Beckett swallowed hard, squeezed McKay's shoulder and headed back to their wounded friend, leaving him alone once more, in the middle of the street.

Tucson Police Detective Eduardo Montez finished interviewing the manager of the El Charro, and approached McKay. "Dr. McKay?"

"Uh… yeah…" McKay voice was shaky, anger simmering under the surface.

"I'll take you to the hospital, that your rental over there, the Range Rover?" McKay nodded, and the detective continued, "I'll get an officer to bring it to the hospital. You got keys?"

"John had…no wait; I have a set."

Fumbling, McKay pulled an extra set of keys from his pocket, his hand shaking as he held them out. Montez called a uniformed officer over, handing him the keys, instructing him to drive the Rover to the University Medical Center. He motioned McKay to follow him.

McKay's anger erupted, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you're doing to find Sheppard, and those women."

"Doctor, we have all available resources looking for them. I assure you we will do everything we can to locate them."

"No… Sheppard wouldn't sit idly by and neither will I. Now, tell me what's happening."

"Let's ride, I'll tell you as we head to the hospital."

Reluctantly, McKay agreed, and got into the detective's dark-gray sedan. Flipping on his lights and siren, Montez pulled away from the curb. Montez glanced over at his passenger, "What kind of doctor are you, medical like Beckett?"

"No… astrophysicist."

"Oh… and you say you and Doctor Beckett, who is a medical doctor, and Dex are all part of Colonel Sheppard's team? What do you guys do for the Air Force?"

McKay's lips thinned, "It's… classified… now what are you doing to find Colonel Sheppard?"

"We've put out a bolo on the van, one of the waiters who heard the commotion looked out the window in time to see one of the perps… ID'd him as a member of the Juggalos. They're considered one of the top gangs in Tucson; drug trafficking still the most important of their activities but they've been branching out… assault among other crimes. They are not widely recognized, only three states consider them a gang, but the FBI thinks they are becoming more organized and getting more violent. We've alerted all the gang units and SWAT is converging on two known addresses for the gang, and…"

"Isn't that dangerous…you could get them killed."

"We're not going to storm the locations, just secure them…look, Dr. McKay…"

"No… you look… you have no idea how valuable Colonel Sheppard is to the safety of this pla… country. We have to find him and those women. Now get me to the hospital, I have a call to make."

Montez stared at McKay for a second, but the determined look on the doctor's face apparently convinced him to listen. He pressed down on the gas.

McKay jumped out of the car at the UMC emergency room, rushing in to find Beckett. A nurse directed him toward a trauma bay. Beckett was standing just outside the glass doors of the room; inside several doctors and nurses were working on Ronon.

"Carson?"

Beckett turned to look at him, and McKay's mouth went dry; he felt unable to breath, as Beckett said softly, "The lad's on life support. I don't think he's gonna make it, Rodney. I spoke to the doctor who's going to operate on him to attempt to repair the damage to his lungs, but he's not hopeful."

McKay clenched his fists, his face rigid, "No... he's going to be okay; I'll be back in a minute."

Rushing outside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number, "This is Doctor Rodney McKay, authorization code Zulu885Tango4, and I need General Landry, now."

He was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk, oblivious to everything but the dead silence from the phone. He nearly jumped into the air when Landry's gruff voice sounded.

"McKay, what the hell are you calling for? Where's Sheppard?"

"I need you to listen to me, General, we don't have much time. I need all the special ops you can send me."

"Doctor, slow down… why the SOs?"

"Ronon was shot; he's on life support and Sheppard's been kidnapped along with three women, by some gang. Oh, and I need the Apollo to locate Sheppard's transponder signal."

Landry sucked in a breath, "McKay, how did this happen?"

"General… no time for questions, just send Marines."

"Don't worry, I'm sending in the cavalry… but Doctor McKay... I'm never granting you four leave again."

"Yeah, yeah… General... listen... I need one more favor…"

~ooOoo~

The first sound Sheppard heard was soft whimpering, coming from nearby. He squirmed as he moved his head off the rough concrete floor, grimacing from the tiny shards of concrete embedded in his cheek, and the pain in his head where he was struck. He tried to rise but only managed to roll over, groaning as pain radiated from his bound hands and ankles.

A frightened female voice called out to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, think so… you?"

"My girls, they took them away… I'm scared. They sh-shot my husband... I don't know if he's alive."

"Just try to remain calm, I promise you; people are looking for us. How many men were there?"

"I… I don't know… four or five… they have my daughters."

Sheppard's gut clenched, separating the girls from their mother wasn't a good sign. He had to figure out how to get untied and find them before they were harmed.

"I'm John. What's your name?"

"Nora. Thank you for trying to help us… I'm sorry…"

"Don't… no need to say you're sorry. Can you move?"

"No, they tied my hands and feet."

"Crap… okay… like I said, there are people looking for us. We'll get out of here and find your girls."

Sheppard rolled back onto his side, to take the pressure off his hands. All he could do was wait for his friends to come and hope they arrived in time.

~ooOoo~

The soft compressions of the respirator pumping air in and out of Ronon's lungs echoed through the silence of the post-operative unit. Surgery to repair the damage done from the gunshots took a bit over an hour. Like a sentry, Beckett stood next to Ronon's bed, his hands resting on Ronon's arm, as his eyes never left the monitor displaying the injured man's vital signs. McKay sat in the corner of the small chamber, fidgeting with his phone, and constantly looking at his watch.

"Rodney, please try to relax; there's nothing more you can do. The detective said he would contact us as soon as he had any information about John."

"Nothing? There's plenty I could be doing but Landry hasn't sent them yet."

"General Landry…what have you done, Rodney?"

"I called Landry and told him I want SOs here so we can go after Sheppard. It's been nearly three hours since they were taken and time's running out." McKay stood up and walked to the bedside. "Any change?"

"No, he still can't breath on his own and… well... the surgeon removed the bullets and repaired what he could." Beckett's voice was timorous, "Now we wait to see if the lad can fight his way back."

"Carson, there's something I should tell…" McKay stopped as the glass door slid open, and the SGC chief medical director, Dr. Carolyn Lam entered.

"Dr. Beckett, good to see you, so sorry for the circumstances. How's Ronon doing?"

"Dr. Lam, I am pleased to see you here, and I appreciate the support, but I'm afraid there's not much we can do for him."

"Perhaps, there is, thanks to an idea Dr. McKay had, we might have a chance to do something for Ronon. I have a medical helo ready to transport us to a hanger at Davis-Monthan; from there, Colonel Ellis is giving us a ride to Cheyenne Mountain."

Beckett spun toward McKay, "What's your idea, laddie?"

Lam intervened, "Doctor, I'll explain once we're in the helicopter. We need to get Ronon discharged and transported. Dr. McKay, General Landry asked me to tell you the cavalry was waiting for you in the parking lot, and he sent direct orders for you to find Colonel Sheppard."

McKay glanced at Ronon for a moment, his eyes darting to Beckett's, "Carson you take care of him."

"We will; you find John."

McKay nodded briskly and hurried out of the room.

Two large dark-blue SUVs waited in the emergency room parking lot, engines running. As McKay ran toward the vehicles, Major Evan Lorne exited from nearest one. As the major opened the rear passenger door, he said, "Dr. McKay, hop in, let's go find the colonel."

~ooOoo~

Footsteps echoed outside the door to the room where Sheppard and Nora were held, causing the hairs on the back of Sheppard's neck to bristle in anticipation. Loud voices drifted through the door; straining to hear what they were saying, he realized they were speaking Spanish.

He whispered to Nora, "Can you understand them? My Spanish is rusty."

"A little…I... I think one of them is mad they took you." She paused, "The other one is saying you're important…a military man, a good hostage."

Before Sheppard could respond, the door opened and two men entered. Sheppard was still lying on his side. One of the men loosened the ropes on his wrist and ankles and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, he wants to see you."

As Sheppard was pushed out the door, Nora kicked her bound feet at one of the men, striking him in the shin. "Where are my daughters? Are they okay?" The man backhanded her and Nora collapsed, unconscious.

Her attacker sneered, "Cállate, puta." He kicked her, "Bitch needs to learn to be quiet."

Pushed down the long narrow corridor, lit by a single light bulb hanging from a broken fixture, Sheppard was alert, his senses heightened. Faint tinkling of cantina music drifted toward him, and the aroma of spicy food cooking filled the air. As he passed by a partially open door, he caught a glimpse of the two girls tied to chairs, but the man behind him pushed him hard, and he stumbled forward. As he fought to stay upright, relief flooded through him, the girls were alive and apparently unharmed… for the moment.

A door opened at the end of the corridor, and a burley man, tattoos covering his arms and neck, motioned for them to enter. A shabby leather couch, a few chairs, and a long wooden table filled the center of the room; scales and plastic bags of white powder sat on the table. Sheppard grimaced as one of the men pushed him onto a straight-backed chair, his arms tied behind him, his ankles bound to the chair legs. A quick glance around the room told him the man sitting on the couch was the ringleader. Of medium build with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, he oozed overconfidence, and ego.

Lazily the man asked, "Lonzo, que tenemos aqui? This is the one they called colonel."

"Si, Vicente; this is the one called colonel."

Vicente rose and walked to Sheppard. "Colonel…what are you a colonel of? The Salvation Army?" His gang laughed loudly until their leader raised his hand; they quieted immediately.

One of his men handed him Sheppard's wallet, "Here is his ID… he's Air Force."

Opening the wallet, Vicente pulled Sheppard's military ID out, "Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Un héroe…saving the women and children. Who's going to save you?"

Sheppard remained silent, which angered Vicente. The gang leader grabbed Sheppard's hair and pulled his head back, "Do you know who I am? I am the leader of the Juggalos, and you would be wise not to underestimate me, guero. I could kill you right here and never break a sweat…but Jose here," pointing to the tattooed man, "thinks you are very valuable? Are you valuable, Colonel or should I kill you now?"

Sheppard chuckled, "Who me? Yeah, some might think I'm pretty valuable…at least more valuable than the women you kidnapped. Let them go and I'll tell you just how important I am."

Vicente released his grip on Sheppard's hair but backhanded him across the jaw. "You are a smart ass; I don't like smart asses."

Spitting blood from the cut inside his cheek, Sheppard muttered, "Yeah, that's me."

The gang leader walked to the table, absently picking up a knife, "The girls... I will not let them go. I have a buyer for the young ones… a businessman in Ecuador; he likes young American girls. As for the woman, I might let her go if I cannot find a buyer for her, but after my men enjoy her." He walked over to Sheppard, "But you… well, my Russian friend Nico might like a chat with you… he loves to sell secrets."

"Tell Nico I'll talk to him, but you have to let the women go."

Vicente laughed loudly, "You are a funny hombre, and in no position to bargain…and you will tell us what you know." He drew the knife along Sheppard's left cheek, leaving a thick trail of blood, "If you do not, there will be many, many more slices of the knife."

He turned to Jose, "Take him back to the storeroom. Blacio's people will be here in a couple of hours to get the girls, and I haven't had dinner yet, gonna to eat before they get here."

As Vicente left the room, he made a call, "Nico… qué pasa? You might want to come see me…" His voice faded as he walked away, but Sheppard knew the call meant he didn't have much time. Jose untied him, pulling him to his feet, but he managed to glance at his watch; over three hours had passed since they were kidnapped, help had to be on the way.

~ooOoo~

"What do you mean you can't locate his transponder?"

Rodney McKay and Major Evan Lorne were standing in an alcove outside of the conference room where they were to meet with the police detectives.

"Doc, all I can tell you is Ellis says they can't locate the beacon; it's not transmitting."

"Then he's dead?"

Lorne shook his head quickly, "No, not necessarily…look, you have to know more than I do about these transponders. From what I've heard you guys have been through a lot these last few weeks, maybe his transponder got damaged or something. Let's not give up yet, we'll find him."

"Yeah…okay," McKay wagged his finger nervously, "that's possible."

"Come on, doc; we need to get in there."

McKay and Lorne slipped through the door, quietly joining Major Teldy, and Captains Stackhouse and Isaacs in time to hear the lead detective arguing.

"I don't like this." Detective Montez was standing nose to nose with the Tucson Police Chief. "You can't let these military goons take over my case; hell, they aren't even sanctioned to operate within the US…this isn't right."

As the detective complained bitterly about them, Lorne sensed his team tense up. McKay opened his mouth, and Teldy shifted onto the balls of her feet; Lorne put his hand out to quiet them, then took a couple of steps forward.

"Detective, we have no intention of taking over your case. We do have every intention of finding Colonel Sheppard, and on that issue, our orders are clear. We have been directed by the President of the United States to locate and safely extricate the colonel and the other hostages. If you're worried about your closed case ratio, I promise you're welcome to all the glory."

Montez bristled; his breathing labored, "I don't need some punk military…"

"Enough, Montez…" A tall thin man stood in the doorway.

The police chief reacted quickly, "Mr. Mayor."

The mayor nodded, then continued addressing Montez, "You have your orders, while you are technically in command of the case, Major Lorne and his team are now responsible for locating the victims. I have been contacted by the White House; the President has requested we cooperate with the Air Force in whatever manner they require."

The chief turned to Montez, "Get to work."

"Montez, why don't you let me talk to Major Lorne; I think we might have a lead."

Lorne spun around to face the man who was leaning against the wall behind him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Julio Martinez, better known as Rico Alvarez on the street; I'm an undercover detective, working the gang unit. A few minutes ago, I got a text from one of my men currently undercover with the Juggalos; he's beginning to do some drug running for them. He works as a cook at one of the places Vicente Cruz, the leader of the Juggalos hangs out, called PePe's. The place is owned by one of Cruz's brothers. Seems as though there's some activity in the back of the restaurant. My man hasn't been undercover long enough with the gang to be trusted at the top levels, but he's good. I trust his instincts."

Lorne asked, "Anyone see the women or the colonel?"

"No, but I'm well known there and can walk in and asked for Vicente without raising too much interest. Might even get an invite to the back; past the kitchen is a series of rooms where we think part of their drug-trafficking operation happens. Done some small deals with the Juggalos, and getting close to doing a big deal with them."

Lorne shifted his weight, "If you're going in, so are we. The officers in this room and the SOs waiting outside are very well qualified to conduct undercover operations. If Colonel Sheppard is there, I want him to see familiar faces when we enter, he'll know exactly what we are trained to do and will react accordingly."

"Agreed." He hesitated, "Major... we've been hearing rumors Vicente Cruz is trafficking in more than drugs…"

"Human trafficking?"

Martinez nodded in reply, "If that's the case, he'll move those girls, and maybe the mother tonight; we need to move quickly." He turned to Montez, "If you don't have any objections, I need to brief these people."

Montez gave Lorne an irritated glance, and nodded, "You guys are running the show."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard was lying on the floor of the storeroom. Nora hadn't stirred in the thirty minutes since he was shoved back into the room, but he kept trying to wake her. "Nora… Nora… can you hear me?"

It took another five minutes of prodding, but he finally heard a groan from her. "Nora... I saw your daughters; they're safe at the moment."

Her voice was weak, "Y-you saw them?"

"Yeah, they haven't been harmed. Listen to me…these guys might come get me again. Don't do anything to provoke them when they do, I need for you to be alert."

"Are they gonna kill us?"

Sheppard took a deep breath, before he replied, "No, we'll be out of here soon. Now, save your energy, don't talk."

She didn't respond, and Sheppard was thankful; he didn't want to talk to her about her daughters. He had to figure out how to get them out of the situation.

When the door opened abruptly, Nora yelped but composed herself quickly. Two men grabbed Sheppard and dragged him from the room. Instead of taking him to the room where he met Vicente, they took him outside, across a dark alley, and into another building to an old freezer. Several meat hooks hung from the ceiling; the men looped the ropes around his wrists over one of the hooks.

One of the men laughed, "We should stay around for this, should be fun."

"No way I want to watch Nico work…that man's brutal."

Vicente's men closed the freezer door behind them, leaving Sheppard to wait. His gut churned; somehow he didn't think the next few hours were going to be fun.

His arms were burning by the time the door reopened, and a thin pale man, no doubt Nico, walked in followed by two men. Sheppard swallowed, as he thought, it was just his luck; both could have been linebackers in the NFL.

"You must be the Russian."

Nico lit a cigarette, blowing smoke in Sheppard's face, "I am; so nice to meet you, Colonel Sheppard."

"That accent…Minsk?"

Laughing, Nico said, "You are good, Colonel… how did you know?"

"Served with a Russian officer on a joint training mission a while back; he was from Minsk. He was an honorable man."

"You think I am not honorable, Colonel?"

"You tell me…"

Nico turned to one of his goons, "Artur, show the colonel how honorable we are."

Artur grinned, drawing back his fist and slammed it as hard as he could into Sheppard's abdomen. Sheppard tried to stifle a groan but couldn't. Nico laughed, "Not so honorable…now I have questions about lots of things. If you are as valuable as you say, you should the answers to what I need to know."

Nodding to Artur and his companion, "Soften him up a bit…"

~ooOoo~

A panel truck, with the City of Tucson Water company logo, sat a block away from PePe's. Several police officers set up a safety perimeter around an open manhole, large flexible pipe extending into the hole as cover. Inside the van, Detective Montez, a police department tech, and Dr. Rodney McKay sat, earphones on.

Montez spoke, "It's nearly two am. PePe's serves liquor until the mandatory closing time, just minutes away, but they stay open all night serving food, and we think liquor in a back room. Unfortunately, enforcement's never caught them."

"So Martinez and the SOs going in will not be out of place."

"Nah…in fact, it's after two when most of the gang members show up."

McKay was fidgeting with the cord on his earphones. Montez asked, "You worried about your people."

McKay snapped, "Of course I'm worried about them, but they are the best at what they do. They'll get the job done."

Lorne's voice over the COM stopped Montez from replying, "Martinez and our people are entering the restaurant now. Head's ups, but no one moves until my mark." A chorus of 'understood' echoed through the COM; everyone went quiet, intent on listening to the three people who were going inside.

Julio 'Rico Alvarez' Martinez pushed open the dirty glass door and walked inside, followed by Sergeant Dusty Mehra and Corporal Ramon 'Ray' Rodriguez. There were twelve people still in the dining room. Rico called out to the bartender, "In under the wire Manni, need a couple of rounds of beers for me and my friends."

The bartender nodded and pulled the beers from the case; Rodriguez and Rico grabbed the beers while Mehra grabbed a table, near the back where Vicente was sitting alone at a large corner booth in the rear of the restaurant.

As Martinez sat down, Vicente called out to him, "Rico, good to see you man…I was wondering when you were coming back to see me. We still got some business to talk."

"Yeah, we do…but I've been busy with my associates from Miami…we've been working a deal with some mutual friends in Cartagena."

Vicente's eyes widened; his interest obviously peaked, "Why don't you and your friends join me." He swept out his arm toward the open booth, as they rose to join him, Vicente's eyes swept over Mehra's body, now clad in tight jeans and a low-cut top under a jeans jacket, compliments of the police undercover division.

Noticing his stare, she smiled at him, slipping into the booth first. Without taking her eyes off of Vicente, she said, "Rico, you did not tell me, you had such handsome business associates. I would have come to Tucson much sooner." She slid close to Vicente, "Much sooner."

Vicente yelled to Manni, "Bring us a bottle of champagne. I think we need to celebrate our new friends."

As they waited for the champagne, Vicente asked, "And your name my little chica?"

"I'm Dusty…" she replied coyly as she brushed her long hair from her shoulders,  
"and this is my brother Ramon."

"Dusty…I like that name."

Manni brought the champagne and glasses, and Vicente popped the cork, pouring the bubbly into glasses. "I propose a toast to new friends."

They all drank, and Martinez remarked, "Champagne, Vicente; I never suspected you had taste. You seem to be in a great mood; you have a good deal go down?"

"You know, man… life can be good."

Leaning over to give me a better look at her cleavage, Dusty growled, "Oh…you are in a great mood. I'm always in a great mood when I'm about to make a lot of money. Are you about to make lots of money?"

"Yeah…as a matter of fact I am." He smiled leeringly at her, then looked to Ray. "So, tell me about your Miami operation."

Ray downed his champagne, "We're Latin Kings, broki; I imagine you know of us."

Vicente nodded, his voice cautious, more suspicious of Ray, "Yes... I have… you got the ink?

"Yeah, man…I got the ink." Ray rolled up his sleeve, revealing a crown tattoo.

Vicente nodded, then asked Dusty, "And you, chica?"

Smiling she lowered her jacket revealing a crown tattoo on her upper arm. "I have others, but I don't know you that well…yet."

Vicente leaned back in the booth, "Ramon, is it true the Kings been branching out into more than drugs,"

"Yeah… getting crowded in the drug world… we've been dealing in more intimate things. You know…people pay for specialties…a certain age, a certain hair color…"

Martinez leaned on his elbows, "Vicente... I know we've been talking drugs, but Ramon has good connections… we might be able to do some of this other business. I brought these two to you; this is too big for me to do on my own. My organization's not big enough."

Vicente hesitated, prompting Dusty to run her hand along his thigh, "I think we could do some business. Rico trusts you, and we trust Rico… what do you say?"

"I say… we might be able to work something out."

Ramon's tone changed; he became decidedly more serious, "We do business only if the Kings are convinced you can handle your end. How do I know if your contacts to move the merchandise are reliable?"

"You don't trust me, compadre?"

"As my sister said, we trust Rico… he trusts you… but I need proof."

"Get up, come with me; I'll give you proof."

In the trailer, McKay and Montez heard Lorne's quiet whisper, "Everyone, proceed to the next staging point, and hold. No chatter… double-click to report."

McKay was fidgeting again and Montez taunted, "You really are nervous aren't you McKay. Good thing you're here with me, safe."

Anger simmering in his voice, McKay replied, "That's the problem; I'm usually with them. I don't like being in here and not helping"

Montez, stunned, asked, "What is it again that you people do for the Air Force?"

"I told you, it's classified."

~ooOoo~

Nico returned to the cooler, where Sheppard was hanging limply, nearly unconscious. He pushed against Sheppard's chest, getting a slight groan in response. He turned Artur, who was wiping blood from his hands, "I told you to soften him up, not kill him."

"He's tough, Nico…took more than most…"

Turning to the other man, "Taras get some water to throw on him, I need him conscious."

Taras returned quickly with a bucket of cold water, which he threw over Sheppard. The icy water caused Sheppard to gasp.

"Welcome back, Colonel. I see you, and Artur had a nice long chat."

Sheppard's lip was split open and swollen; blood had congealed over his left eye from split skin above his eyebrow. Dried blood trailed down his face from the ragged cut on his cheek. He managed to squeak out, "Not m-much…of a talk-er…"

"Not much of anything from what I can find… I ran your ID… I can't find where you're stationed or what you do for the Air Force. So I called in, shall we say, some markers from my contacts in your government, and mine. Colonel John Sheppard barely exists… which makes me believe you are more important than you have indicated. The people I work for are quite interested in you, Colonel."

"N-nice… to be… want…wanted."

"Who are you? What is your mission?"

Sheppard dropped his head, not replying.

Nico stepped aside, "I think he needs more convincing."

Artur and Taras stepped forward, taking turns hitting Sheppard.

After a minute, Nico yelled, "Stop."

Bright blood flowed from new cuts on Sheppard's face, blood seeping through his shirt where Artur had pounded on his right side.

"Cut him down; Taras call for the van. I don't want him bleeding in my SUV. We need to get him where we have access to drugs; we will not get anything from him this way. I'm going to call Sergio; he needs to let Tariq know we have a US military officer to barter with."

~ooOoo~

Vicente led Martinez, Rodriquez, and Mehra through the kitchen and into the back of the building. On the way, Jose caught up to tell Vicente his brokers had arrived. He smiled at Rodriquez, "Ramon you are in luck…I am dealing with people who have many contacts in Ecuador and South America. In fact, I have two delicious young girls I am about ready to sell. Come, we'll do the deal, and then we will celebrate our new alliance."

He led them to the room he first met Sheppard in and where his brokers were waiting. "Jimmy, Orlando, good to see you."

Jimmy's hand slipped under his jacket, revealing a Luger, "Who are these people?"

"Put that away, these are business associates of mine…you do business with me; you're doing business with them."

Orlando put up his hands, "Everyone just calm down. Let's see the merchandise, Cruz."

Vicente jerked his head to Jose, who stepped to the doorway and motioned to someone. Within seconds, two of his men entered pushing the young girls in front of them.

Vicente approached the girls, "You asked for two girls, fourteen to sixteen, slight build, blond hair, and here they are…both virgins. Jose was more than happy to verify that for you."

The girls were crying, and Rodriguez saw Mehra's jaw clench, her normal tell before she sprang into action. He glanced at Martinez. The detective's impassive face did not give away his feelings but Rodriquez recognized the look in the man's eyes, raw fury at the spectacle enfolding in front of them. The agreement, however, was to wait until money exchanged hands, then they could take the bastards down.

Orlando circled the girls, running his hands over their bodies, "Si...our client will be very happy; he is a powerful business man in Quito and loves to have such sweet little ones for his associates."

"Alright, we agreed on ten thousand apiece, an extra twenty-five hundred if you found us sisters," Jimmy said. "I have a feeling Senior Carbo will be most pleased." He reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out a stack of money.

As Jimmy counted the money, Rodriguez noticed Mehra edge closer to the girls, making eye contact with the oldest. He saw her wink at the girl, and was thankful he saw a spark of understanding in the girl's eyes.

Jimmy handed the cash to Vicente, prompting Rodriguez to pull his weapon. In a prearranged move, to protect Martinez's undercover status, Rodriguez pulled a police badge from under his shirt, and yelled, "Hands up, Tucson police!" Mehra stood with her weapon drawn as well.

In the trailer, McKay and Montez listened as Major Lorne ordered everyone to go, and within seconds, the restaurant was under siege. Jose ran down the hallway, only to be cut off by Captain Stackhouse and his team entering from the rear alley door. He ducked into the door where Nora was, grabbed her, and stepped into the hallway, the muzzle of his gun resting on her throat.

"Let me through…or I'll kill her."

Stackhouse held up his hand to halt his team, "Not gonna happen, you've no where to go. Put the gun down or you die."

Jose took a step, dragging the bound woman, "You let me out of here, or she's dead."

"Sorry, I warned you."

The words were barely out of Stackhouse's mouth when the retort of two single P-90 shots echoed in the hall. Jose fell, two bullet holes in his head, Nora falling on top of him.

Sergeant Morton pulled Nora away from the body, using his K-Bar to cut away her bindings.

Corporal Paul Brenner checked Jose for a pulse. "He's dead." He looked at Stackhouse who knew exactly what Brenner wanted to do, go help the other member of their team, Ray Rodriguez.

"Go, this guy came from the end of the hall. I'm right behind you." Brenner took off, and Stackhouse turned to follow as soon as he told Morton to get Nora to safety. Before he could leave, she grabbed his arm.

"My… daughters?"

"Ma'am, I'm sure they're fine; two of the best people we have are with them. I'll bring them to you as soon as I can."

As he turned to leave, she stopped him again, "John… they took him somewhere. Please find him."

"We will, ma'am."

As soon as Rodriguez revealed them as police, Mehra grabbed the two girls and dropped them to the floor, then threw a quick uppercut to the gang leader's jaw. Vicente fell limp across the couch.

Orlando ran toward the door, as Jimmy pulled his gun and shot toward Mehra, missing her but winging Martinez in the arm. One shot from Mehra to Jimmy's torso sent the man spinning. Rodriguez kicked Jimmy's gun away, then ran into the hallway after Orlando.

"Stop or you die. I'm only telling you once."

Orlando, hearing gunshots from further down the corridor, dropped his gun, "Okay...I give up."

Pulling disposable handcuffs from inside his jacket, Ray was cuffing Orlando when he spotted his best friend, Paul Brenner racing down the long corridor. He was about to speak, when Brenner raised his weapon and yelled, "Duck."

Trusting his friend, Rodriguez ducked to the side, pulling Orlando with him, as Brenner fired, his shot going through Vicente's shoulder. The gang leader dropped his weapon, and Mehra tackled him to the floor.

Brenner ran toward them, Stackhouse right behind, the captain asked, "You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're all fine," Rodriguez answered.

Mehra, standing in the doorway, the girls hiding behind her, said, "Sir, we need to get these girls out of here."

The youngest one grabbed her arm, "Mom and dad?"

Stackhouse smiled, "Your mom's fine; she's here. Your dad's at the hospital; the last I heard he was in surgery but going to be okay."

The girls ran to Stackhouse, hugging him tightly, as he said to Mehra, "Let's get them to their mom."

Brenner asked, "Anyone see the colonel?"

Stackhouse shook his head, "Nothing yet."

Rodriguez said, "I know who will know. Come on, broki, Vicente will tell us."

They hurried back into the room; SWAT officers stood guard as paramedics treated Martinez, Jimmy and Vicente. Rodriguez strode across the room where Vicente sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He pushed the paramedic treating Vicente out of the way.

Grabbing the gang leader by the collar, he asked, "Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

Vicente spit at him, "You'll never see him again."

Rodriguez pulled the gang leader to his feet and slammed him against the wall, "And you die here, now, if you don't tell me."

"You're a cop and you gonna kill me in front of all these cops?"

"I'm not a cop…I'm a Marine… and I doubt any of these cops will care if you die. You were gonna sell those girls into slavery. Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

Vicente glared at him. Rodriguez pressed his gun against Vicente's temple, "Now."

"Está bien…He's probably dead already if he didn't talk…I turned him over to a Russian mob guy…he trades in government secrets."

Brenner leaned in, "Name…"

"Nicoli Vasin."

"Where did they take him?

"Building across the alley, used to be a butcher's shop."

Rodriguez dropped Vicente to the floor, "If anything happens to the colonel, I'll find you, usted lo siento hijo de puta."

Brenner tapped his COM, "Major Lorne… we know where the colonel is; old butcher's shop across the alley…this bastard turned him over to a Russian."

"Understood…we're on our way."

Five minutes later, Lorne and his people were deployed around the abandoned butcher's shop. He called Rodriguez and Brenner over, "Look...we need some element of surprise. There's an SUV parked on the next street in front of the opening, don't know how many perps are in there."

Lorne looked at Rodriguez, "You already know the names of the players…"

"No need to say anymore Major, I'll go in."

"I'm going too," Brenner stated.

Rodriguez laughed, "Broki... you don't look like a gang banger, and you're not dressed for the role. I'll be fine."

Lorne handed Rodriguez a couple of magazines for his nine-mil, "Be careful, Ray."

"Yes, sir. I'll try to describe what I see so you'll know where the colonel located, if he's there."

Rodriguez slipped through the back door into a dark room, pausing for his eyes to acclimate. Stainless steel tables, cabinets, and a couple of old band saws were scattered around the room. To his left, metal walls indicated the structure taking up floor space was a large freezer. He headed for the faint light coming from the front.

Rounding the corner of the freezer, Rodriguez came face-to-face with one of the Russians speaking on a phone. Glancing toward the freezer opening, everything faded as he saw Sheppard lying on the floor, the colonel's face battered, cut, swollen, smeared with blood.

Pushing his emotions aside, he asked, "Hey…que Nico?"

"Who are you?"

In the heaviest Puerto Rican accent of his cousins, Rodriguez said, "I'm Ramon. Vicente sent me to see if you got what you wanted from the hombre?"

"You tell your boss, not to worry, he'll get paid, as soon as we get some info from this bastard."

"Si, I will tell him." Rodriguez stepped up the ramp toward Sheppard, his heart pounding in his chest; the colonel hadn't moved. "You guys really did a number on him…is he alive? I'd love to watch you beat up someone sometime."

Artur stepped in front of him, "You need to leave."

"Okay, man…me voy…I'll go." He turned to walk back down the ramp, purposely stepping in blood, and slipping. He fell down, catching himself before he slammed into Sheppard; buying time for Lorne to send in the troops.

Nico yelled, "Get out of here, or I swear I'll kill you."

As Rodriguez tried to get up, he heard Lorne through his ear bud, "A van just pulled up with two guys in it. We're taking them out and coming in, get ready."

"Artur, Taras get him out of here," Nico barked.

"I'm going…getting off this slick ramp in the freezer with all this blood, man…it ain't easy."

Taras grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, pushing him off the side of the ramp, just as Lorne and the teams rushed into the room.

Artur ducked around the side of the freezer, and began firing; a blinding flash of light from Major Teldy's P-90 dropped him. Nico and Taras took cover behind a cabinet, as Rodriguez scrambled up and jumped back onto the ramp, intending on pulling the colonel to safety. He was nearly to Sheppard when a bullet whizzed by him. Nico was firing at Sheppard, while Taras attempted to keep the Atlantians at bay.

Nico's eyes darted to Rodriquez, before aiming at Sheppard again. Before he could pull the trigger, the corporal yelled, "Oh no you don't." He fired striking Nico between the eyes, then threw himself over the colonel.

Gunfire continued for several more seconds, then it became eerily quiet. Rodriguez remained hunched over Sheppard protecting him, jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ray, it's okay... it's Lorne. We took them out; time to get Colonel Sheppard some help."

Rodriguez rolled over, blood on his shirt; Lorne gasped, "Corporal you hurt?"

"No, it's the Colonel's."

McKay came running in with Montez, stopping abruptly when he saw Sheppard lying in a pool of blood. Shaking, he walked slowly toward Lorne, who was kneeling next to his CO.

"Major?"

"He's alive, but he's hurt badly…they beat him up pretty good."

Tucson paramedics arrived, immediately beginning to tend to Sheppard. Lorne backed off and walked away from the local police, motioning McKay to follow.

"Change your frequency, I'm contacting Landry." He tapped his COM, "Apollo, Lorne… patch me to General Landry." A few seconds passed, before Landry came on the line.

"General, we have Colonel Sheppard, but he's badly injured, need helo transport to Davis-Monthan, then to the SCG."

"What about the women?"

"Safe, sir; on their way to the hospital to be checked out and reunited with the dad."

"Good job, Major; helo is standing by, should be to you in just a few minutes. Notify your paramedics the pilot is cleared to land in the parking lot two blocks from your location."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Dr. McKay, the paramedics to get Colonel Sheppard ready for transport."

~ooOoo~

The infirmary at the SGC was quiet, only the soft beeping emitted by the monitors, and the compressions from the respirator assisting Ronon's breathing could be heard. When anyone on the staff did need to communicate, they did so in whispers.

McKay was leaning on his elbows, holding a cold cup of coffee in his hands; a position he had been in for thirty minutes. Beckett walked in, two fresh cups of coffee in his hands, and sat in the chair next to McKay.

"Here, Rodney, this cup is hot; now drink."

McKay took the coffee, without saying a word. Beckett leaned his head against the wall behind him, "Rodney, you need to eat something; it's been a long time since dinner."

"What I need is for Sam to get here. The Hammond was on a mission, and they won't tell me where she was or how long until she arrives."

"She'll be here, Rodney; General Landry said so."

"She needs to be here now."

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"Yes…" McKay answered sharply, then sighed deeply, his voice softer when he continued, "yes…but Sam's the only one who can make it work. Even though O'Neill had a Goa'uld in him, he can't do what Sam can."

"Rodney, Ronon is very badly injured, are you sure she's strong enough to…"

"It'll work, Carson; it'll work." He changed the subject, "How's Sheppard doing?"

"Thankfully, he'll live. Bastards lacerated his liver, broke a couple of ribs, and he has contusions, cuts and serious bruises on his face; he really got battered. It's gonna take a long time for John to heal."

"Why, Carson? Why did he and Ronon run straight into that situation? They didn't have weapons, they just…"

"It's who they are, and we will never change that fact." Beckett rubbed his chin, "Those two are who they are."

A new voice interrupted, "No…I doubt either one of these men could be anything but who they are."

Beckett and McKay turned to see General Landry. McKay jumped up, "Is she here?"

"No, not yet, but the device is…just arrived from Area 51." Landry glanced at the two injured men lying on beds next to each other. "Any change?"

Beckett stood up, "The colonel should wake up from the anesthetic any time now, surgery to repair the liver laceration was successful, and we had a plastic surgeon suture the deep cut on his face. It'll take a long time for him to heal." The doctor hesitated, "Ronon…well, you know what we're dealing with, sir."

"Yes, I do. I wanted to let you know I just spoke with Major Lorne. He's still in Tucson with some of our people dealing with the police. He arranged for the rental car to be taken back to the hotel, and I had Walter call and extend your reservations until we notify them differently."

"Thank you, General."

"You're more than welcome, Dr. Beckett."

McKay started to speak, but Landry stopped him, "Don't ask…Sam should be here within the hour."

McKay took a deep breath and nodded, uttering soft thanks.

Landry left and the two men resumed their vigil over their friends. They had grown so accustomed to the silence that a groan from Sheppard's bed reverberated like a klaxon. Both men jumped up, rushing to Sheppard's beside.

Beckett asked, "John, can you hear me? It's Carson."

Sheppard took several shallow breaths, then asked weakly, "Ro-non."

Beckett closed his eyes, steeling himself to tell Sheppard about his friend, "Alive but very badly injured."

"M-make it?"

"I don't know, laddie; I don't know."

McKay interjected, "John, Sam's coming and the Goa'uld healing device is here. We think it will help Ronon."

"N-ora?

Beckett looked perplexed, but Rodney understood, "Nora and her daughters are fine, and her husband is recovering."

"Are you in pain?" Beckett asked, the only reply from Sheppard was a slight nod of his head. "John, you need to rest now." Beckett adjusted his IV drip, upping the dose of pain meds. They remained at Sheppard's bedside until he fell asleep again.

An hour passed and McKay was pacing, "Where the hell is she…she's supposed to be here."

"I'm here, Rodney."

They turned to see the silhouette of Colonel Samantha Carter standing in the doorway, backlit by the bright lights in the main ward.

McKay rushed to her, hugging her, "Sam, thanks…you have to help him."

"I'll do my best, but I haven't used the device in a long time, not certain if I can control it."

"You have to try…"

"I'm going to. Doctor Lam wants to give me a quick baseline exam first, in case something happens. I'll be back in a few minutes."

A few minutes turned into fifteen, before Carter returned with Doctor Lam and General Landry in tow. A nurse with them was carrying a box, which she sat down on the table next to Ronon's bed.

Carter opened the box and withdrew the round device, running her fingers along the twisted metal wrapped around the healing crystal. She positioned the device in her hand and stepped toward Ronon's bed.

Closing her eyes, Carter raised the device holding it above Ronon's chest. As she concentrated, the deep orange crystal began to glow…soft amber light radiating from the device, spreading a golden glow across Ronon's chest. Slowly, the readings on Ronon's monitor began to change.

As Carter concentrated, Dr. Lam quietly warned her nurse, "Stand by on my mark, if he starts breathing on his own, I want this tube out of him stat." The nurse nodded.

Minutes flew by; beads of sweat building on Carter's forehead as she concentrated. Ronon's numbers were improving, the respirator indicating he was beginning to take breaths on his own. Carter appeared to be weakening from the effort; Beckett reached out to stabilize her, but she shook him off and continued. Another few minutes passed before Carter gasped, breaking her concentration; the amber light fading. This time, Beckett caught her before she fell and led her to a chair.

Lam ordered the nurse to remove the breathing tube, as she began to evaluate Ronon's condition. After a few anxious moments, she looked up, a grin on her face. "Amazing, his lungs are functioning normally. He's going to be alright."

McKay said, "Way to go, Sam."

Before she could answer him, Colonel Samantha Carter fainted.

~ooOoo~

Two hours had passed since Carter used the Goa'uld healing device. Ronon was resting comfortably, and Carter was asleep on a bed against the far wall of the trauma bay. Beckett was sitting near Sheppard and Ronon, when McKay returned from Landry's office.

"How are they doing?"

"Ronon's been awake, his lungs are healed, but he's pretty weak, think it will take a couple of days to get him on his feet."

"And John?"

"He's doing better…"

"Sam needs to use the device on him."

"She might be able to, but Lam won't allow it until she gets some rest, and they have time to look at her blood work. Healing Ronon took a lot out of her, don't want to tax her too much."

McKay plopped down in the chair next to Beckett, "Well, I just came from General Landry's office. Seems that little snake Coolidge of the IOA is furious we moved the Goa'uld healing device from Area 51 to the SGC without his permission; like we need permission from that little bastard. He was on Atlantis when someone notified him. I told you I didn't want those idiots in the city."

"R-Rodney…"

McKay jumped, "Sheppard…"

Beckett beat McKay to the bed, "Hey, laddie, don't try to talk."

"Sam… she heal... healed Ronon?"

"Aye, he's gonna be fine, just needs to rest."

"Good…don't let her try… me… fine."

Beckett dropped his head to his chest, Sheppard never ceased to amaze him. "Sam's resting…we'll see when she wakes up. Right now, you need to rest."

Sheppard raised his left hand, which Beckett seized, whispering, "Go to sleep, John."

By midnight, Carolyn Lam put her foot down and ordered Beckett and McKay to quarters to rest, arguing Sheppard and Ronon were both improving. Reluctantly, they agreed.

It was the middle of the night; nearly twenty-four hours since Sheppard had arrived when Carter woke up. She sat up in bed, taking a deep breath, glancing at the box containing the device sitting on the bedside table. She had awakened a couple of times and knew Ronon was nearly healed, but she also knew Sheppard was still badly injured.

Carter hopped off the bed, removing the device from the box, and walked past Ronon's bed, careful not to wake him. She positioned the device over Sheppard and closed her eyes, the amber glow spreading across the colonel's body. Already weakened by healing Ronon, Carter was unsteady; she pushed through the discomfort, concentrating, but she was fading. She grabbed the bed railing as she started to fall, but strong arms encircled her.

"I've got you," Ronon's deep voice offered comfort, and Carter refocused.

As Sheppard was bathed in the glow from the device, the swelling on his face reduced, the bruises faded, the deep cut disappeared. Carter focused as long as she could, finally running out of energy. She whispered to Ronon, "I can't…"

He pulled the device from her hand, "You've done enough." She collapsed against him, and he picked her up carrying her to her bed, as Dr. Lam ran in, alerted by the alarm sounding from Ronon's monitor.

"I told her we would evaluate her in the morning to see if she was recovered enough to work on the colonel." She looked at Ronon, "You back in bed; you're close to a hundred percent but not completely."

Lam saw that Carter and Ronon were situated back in bed then checked on Sheppard, who was still sleeping, his face now recognizable, bruises and swelling nearly gone. Glancing at the nurse, she said, " Order an MRI to check on his liver damage, but his vitals look much better. And bring me a suture removal kit, need to get those stitches out of his face," she checked his arm, "and this older wound on his arm." The nurse left to get the necessary equipment.

As Lam waited, she took stock of the three people in her trauma unit. Smiling she whispered, "Stubborn to the last and loyal to each other, what more could anyone ask for."

~ooOoo~

Samantha Carter was on her way to General Landry's office, when Sheppard caught up with her.

"Sam, wait."

She smiled, "You're looking chipper."

"Thanks to you. You feel okay?"

"I'm fine, John… just needed a bit of rest."

"I understand The Hammond's breaking orbit today, going out on the mission you were on when you were called back?"

She pursed her lips, and nodded, "Yeah…we're just checking out some intel."

'Okay… well… I just wanted to say thanks for…"

"No need, John… I'm just thankful we had a way to save Ronon."

"Sam, I would have healed without you… I didn't want you to jeopardize your health for me."

"You'd do the same for me if you could. Besides, the women in two galaxies would have been quite angry if I hadn't taken care of the scar you mostly likely would have had."

Sheppard coughed nervously, his eyes glancing away from Carter.

She smiled, "John, when I was on Atlantis, I became very aware you feel responsible for everything and everyone. For once, let someone feel responsible for you."

He gave her a small smile, "Hard to accept sometimes."

Master Sergeant Walter Harriman walked up, "Excuse me, Colonel Sheppard, your car's waiting up top."

"Thanks, Walter."

"Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Ronon's been cleared and is working out with the Marines, Rodney's been harassing Dr. Lee since this morning, and Beckett been with Lam all day going over some reports about a virus…

"Oh…the outbreak on Keta…"

"Yeah…think that's what he said. So, thought I might drive over to the Academy and walk around. Never made it over there when we were kicked off Atlantis, and I was stationed back here."

The distant look in his eyes didn't escape Carter. "You okay, really."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He hugged her, "Good luck on your mission, and thanks."

"Take care, John."

Sheppard walked away, and Carter continued to General Landry's office.

"Colonel Carter, you about ready to leave?"

"Yes, I'm beaming aboard in a few minutes. General, are you sure we shouldn't tell them what we may have found?"

"No…and it's the 'may have found' part of your statement keeping me from telling them. I don't want to give them false hope."

"General, I'm worried about John. I got to know him pretty well, and I can tell you, guilt should be his middle name. He is one of the bravest men I've ever met, and an incredibly qualified commander, but he takes the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"Don't you?"

Carter gave him a small smile, "Comes with the territory, sir. Right now, you have an entire battalion of troops, not to mention the scientists, who are literally without a home. Atlantis sitting on the Pacific Ocean is not where she, or her crew, belongs, and her military leader feels responsible for all of them. He needs a pep talk."

"Pep talk…from me?"

"Yes, sir…from you. He's headed to the Academy…you should go find him, take him out for a beer."

"Colonel Carter, don't you have a ship to beam to?"

She grinned, "Yes, sir. I'll keep you informed of our progress."

Carter left, and Landry sat quietly for a while. She was right, Sheppard and his team had been through a lot. Maybe some healing of the mind was necessary, and he might as well start at the top. Grabbing his jacket and car keys, he walked out of his office yelling for Walter.

~ooOoo~

Driving into Colorado Springs, Sheppard had fully intended on looking up an old professor who was still teaching but the closer he got to the Academy, the less he felt the desire to speak to anyone. He picked up a pass at the gate, but instead of finding a parking spot, he drove around for a while. He passed the Visitor's Center, along Cadet Drive past the Chapel, the tennis courts, the field house, circling back down Faculty Drive, then the aeronautics laboratory. He kept driving.

Turning onto Interior Drive, Sheppard drove past the Eisenhower Golf Course, until he reached the football stadium. Pulling into the parking lot, he stopped in front of the main gate, sitting in the car for a moment, before he got out.

He was nearly at the gate, when a military police guard approached him, "Can I help you, sir?"

Sheppard pulled out his ID and his gate pass, "Colonel John Sheppard, just here to visit. Can I go inside?"

The guard handed his ID back, "You use to play here, sir?"

"A long time ago."

Smiling the young guard said, "Go on in, sir… lots of former players like to see the stadium again."

"Thanks, Airman."

He walked inside, emotion washing over him. He made his way to the top row of the lower section, sitting on the fifty-yard line, the large AF letters on the field facing him. The end zones spelled out Air Force on his right, and Falcon, the Academy nickname on his left. The magnificent Peregrine falcon was the inspiration for the nickname the sports teams used. As he stared at the left end zone memories of his grandfather flooded his thoughts.

The summer he spent with his mother's father and his aunt, before he entered the Academy, had been the best summer of his life. The day before he was to leave for the Academy his grandfather Anton Allain had taken him to a wildlife center where a Peregrine falcon was on display. He wanted John to see and interact with the mascot of the Air Force Academy. Sheppard chuckled; his grandfather had a lesson to teach, one he hadn't thought of in years.

He braced his feet against the seat in front of him, as his thoughts drifted to their conversation on the trip back to his grandfather's house.

_"Listen, that bird, he's a lot like you, John."_

_"How so, Granddad?"_

"_Well, he's strong, handsome," _he had laughed as John blushed_, "stubborn, and dangerous. I think you can be dangerous, if you put your mind to it. When that bird's flying free, he doesn't have a care in the world. He just soars, and dives, and takes his prey. On the ground, in the control of that handler, that bird is confined, anxious, unsure. He wants to fly, and he doesn't want anyone to keep him from flying. Sometimes, somebody else is going to be in control, and he has to remember that, and so do you."_

Sheppard smiled as he remembered how Anton sensed he was uncomfortable with what he was saying_._

_"You want to fly, John, and fly you should. I know this is what you should do; you're like your mother, not your dad. You're a free spirit, and so was she. Your father is mistaken about what you need, but that doesn't make him a bad person. He needs to control the things around him the only way he knows how to control. When you enter the Academy, and you enter the military, you'll find a lot of people who'll want to control you like your father. Keep the blinders on, John, and stay calm. You can let go when you fly."_

"_You can let go when you fly." _He leaned back in the seat, talking out loud, "Maybe that's what's wrong John… you can't fly…"

But he knew that wasn't true, he could fly whenever he wanted while he was on Earth. It was just that he couldn't fly what he wanted to fly… the jumpers would certainly garner too much attention. Well, nothing he could do about that problem, at the moment. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander to the Saturday afternoons he spent on the field.

He jumped out of the seat, when a deep voice said, "Damn, Sheppard, you're hard man to find."

"General, what are you doing here?"

"I had to drop something off for the superintendent, so I thought I'd find you and see if you wanted to grab dinner with me."

Sheppard was a bit taken back, "Yes… uh… certainly, that would be good, sir."

"Glad you got your transponder replaced; I had to ask the Apollo to locate you." Landry sat down, "They ever figure out what happened to the other one."

"The techs think I broke or loosened a sensor wire when I fell off the cliff in Grand Canyon. Happened, they believe, when I grabbed onto a tree with my right arm and my muscle contracted tightly over it. Dr. Harp replaced it yesterday."

Landry scoffed, "You and your team certainly have had an eventful leave."

"Yeah… that we have."

"By the way, Lorne was returning from Tucson as I left the mountain… we'll debrief tomorrow morning, then Ellis will return them to Atlantis."

"Yes, sir."

"What's eating you, Sheppard?"

"Sir?"

"I've been around long enough to know when one of my command's unhappy."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Sheppard… don't try that on me… I know better."

Sheppard shifted in the seat, "I used to play football for the Academy, did you know that, General?"

"No, I didn't."

"I was sitting here thinking about the skinny kid who showed up here, wondering where he'd disappeared to…"

Landry chuckled, "I think we've all pondered that question from time to time, especially the skinny part."

Sheppard laughed lightly, then replied, "I thought this was going to be a fun trip… get the guys away from Atlantis… but all I've managed to do is nearly get them killed."

"Wow…. Sheppard… didn't know you were so all powerful… planned all of the things that happened to you, did you?"

Sheppard glanced at Landry, then stared toward the field. He sighed, "No sir, I didn't and I get your point."

"Colonel, men like you, Ronon, Beckett… hell, even McKay… are men of action, you aren't going to stand by when something happens, when someone needs help. It's in your DNA…you're too situationally alert not to notice things, and too well trained not to act. Don't beat yourself up… last count, I think the bad guys all lost, and the four of you are in one piece."

"Yes, sir…all in one piece…thanks to Sam."

"Yeah… we're lucky to have her."

"General... anything important happening on Atlantis?"

"Why do you ask, know something I don't know?"

"No, just a hunch Rodney has from something Zelenka told him."

"Well, Colonel, nothing I'm aware of, but I do know Lee said the 51 crew wants another couple of weeks. So, you should take a couple more weeks leave."

"With all do respect, General, I need to ask the guys. They've been through a lot; I'll let them decide."

"Fair enough but I've extended your leave already… might as well take it. Come on, let's get going. Leave your car; I'll get it picked up. I think dinner at MacKenzie's Chop House is in order. They have a great happy hour and cook a mean steak."

Sheppard rose, "Sounds good to me."

As they walked out of the stadium, Sheppard asked, "General…do you really think McKay's a man of action?"

The general laughed, "I wouldn't have thought it, but he took charge when you were kidnapped, told me what he needed. Surprised me a bit, but yeah, I think you guys have influenced him."

Sheppard scratched his head, "Do me a favor, sir; don't tell him."

Landry grinned, "Understood, Colonel."

~ooOoo~

After the morning's debriefing on the Tucson situation, Sheppard caught up with Corporals Brenner and Rodriguez.

"Corporals, wait up."

Brenner smiled, "Yes, sir. Sure is good to see you healthy sir."

"Yeah, feels better as well. I just wanted to thank you both… again… for rescuing me. You two do seem to be making a career of it."

Rodriguez grinned, "Like I told you once before, sir; the recruiter told us our job in the military was gonna be rescuing a colonel whenever necessary."

"I'll try to give you respite for a while. How's that?"

"I think we can speak for the Marines and the airmen, sir," Brenner answered. "Ooh-rah to that plan."

"By the way, Ray, I understand you and Sergeant Mehra are sporting new tattoos."

"Yes, sir, but only temporary… the gang unit fixed us up with the King's tattoo but it'll wash off. Although, I think the sergeant kinda likes hers, sir."

Sheppard gave the corporals a lop-sided grin, "That wouldn't surprise me. When are you beaming onto the Apollo?"

"About two hours, sir, we're gonna hang out in the mess hall until then," Rodriguez answered.

Brenner winked, "I think he likes Airman Malone."

Sheppard cocked his head, "The quartermaster clerk?

Brenner answered, "Yes, sir; she's usually in the mess checking supplies about now."

Rodriguez's blush was not lost on Sheppard. "Well, Corporal, watch yourself. Both of you, thanks again. I'll see you on Atlantis in a couple of weeks."

Sheppard continued on to the lab McKay was using, finding Ronon and Beckett there as well.

"So…guys…what's up?"

Beckett answered, "We were discussing what you asked us this morning, and the answer is yes."

"You guys certain?"

Ronon said, "Yes," then nudged McKay, who nodded.

Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, then said, "Okay, two more weeks of leave it is. We'll hitch a ride to Davis-Monthan on the Apollo, and get transport back to the hotel. Get ready, bus leaves in two hours."

As they left the lab to gather their things, Sheppard, Beckett, and Ronon chose to ignore McKay's stifled groan.

_End of Part Five The Wild Wild West Day Five - Nine._

* * *

Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear from you!

A tiny disclaimer… I do not speak Spanish, so all Spanish phrases are courtesy of Bing Translator, and I have no idea, whether the translation or grammar is correct. My apology if any of the Spanish is not proper.

Tucson is a wonderful city; for plot purposes, I chose to write about gang activity, and the two gangs mentioned in this chapter are actual gangs…the gang member characters, and their exploits are fiction. I have tried throughout this story to be as accurate as possible, so the hotels, restaurants, tourist spots, and the highways they travel are real. I wanted the story to be a chronicle of these characters we all love, their friendship, and loyalty to each other, but to also be a tiny bit of a travelogue for fun.

Again, thanks for the wonderful comments and PMs regarding Road Trip. I really appreciate every one of them. FYI… I have started on the next and, probably last, segment…will have it to you as soon as I can.


	12. Part 6 The Road Home Day One - Three

**Title:** **Road Trip**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K +

**Genres: **Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

**Word Count: **Part Six… The Road Home Day One - Three

**Spoilers: **Post-Season Five (Occasional references to events during Seasons 1-5)

**Warnings:** Language, this segment contains mention of past suicide incident.

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

**Summary:** The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Author's Notes: **I know… it's been a while… I am sorry about the delay but a lot of things going on in real life. I appreciate all the messages from everyone wanting to know when the next segment would be posted and for all the suggestions. I never intended for it to be so long between postings, but it was. There will be one more entry into this now extremely long story. Part of me doesn't want to finish it but at some point, I have to. These guys have to go back on duty sometime!

This segment is a transition of sorts, a little character study, a bit of a travelogue, and some… well... you'll find out. I hope you enjoy… I've tried to stay true to these wonderful characters but also give them some depth we were never able to see on the show.

Hope you enjoy. I promise I am finishing Road Trip. I cannot guarantee it will be within the next month, but I will make every effort to have it done as quickly as possible! Thank you for your patience and support!

Happy Holidays and Wonderful 2014 for all!

* * *

**Road Trip ****Part Six… The Road Home Day One – Day Three**

_by stella_pegasi_

Sheppard glanced at his watch, it was fifteen minutes before they agreed to meet for dinner, but he was restless and decided to head for the lobby early. As he opened the door, he found McKay standing in the hall, hand poised to knock.

"Rodney, I was just heading down…"

McKay held out Sheppard's black Stetson hat, "I picked it up in the street outside the restaurant, then left it in the SUV Lorne picked me up in at the hospital."

"Uh… thanks, I thought it was gone." Sheppard stepped back into the room, placing the hat on the dresser. Rodney followed him.

"Lorne found it, thought it was mine and when he and Isaacs brought the rental back here, he asked the hotel to put it in my room." McKay picked at the cuff of his shirt, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"You okay?"

McKay waved his hand in the air, "Yeah…" then shook his head, "No… I'm not."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

"Rodney…"

"We're not very good at this talking thing, I mean you, me, or Ronon. Carson could but then… he'd just start crying."

We've been through worse."

"Yeah… on Atlantis, on a mission… I never thought we'd... we almost lost Ronon and you could have died."

"McKay, a wise general recently told me to stop feeling guilty about what's happened to us on this trip. He was quick to remind me that we didn't cause any of the things we've gone through. We reacted the way we are trained to react, nothing more."

"Um… nothing more; seems a lot to me."

"Rodney, you saved Ronon's life. If you hadn't thought to bring Sam back here to use the Goa'uld healing device, he'd be dead."

"Yeah, well, that's all thanks to Sam." He sighed, "Why us, why do these things always happen to us?"

A slight smile crossed Sheppard's face. He cocked his head and said, "General Landry asked me if I wanted a team of Marines to come with us as a protection detail."

McKay's head whipped around, "Did you…?"

"No… no Marines."

"Yeah well, probably for the best…"

"Let's go have dinner."

As Sheppard closed the door to his room, McKay said, "I am hungry."

"Oh yeah, so what else is new, McKay?"

Ronon was waiting for them downstairs, sprawled across a lobby couch. Beckett arrived just behind them, and the friends walked across the lobby to the Core Kitchen and Bar. After ordering dinner, and the server hurrying off to get their drinks, silence fell around the table. Sheppard slid his fingers around a water glass, absently tapping the icy surface. Ronon slouched in his chair, while McKay's eyes were downcast as he fidgeted with his silverware.

Carson Beckett glanced from friend to friend, then said, "You lot look like a wee bunch of numpties."

McKay's head shot up, "A wee bunch of what?"

"Yeah, Carson, what the hell does that mean?" Sheppard leaned back, fingers gripping the edge of the tabletop.

With an exaggerated sigh, Beckett threw up his hands, "It means you're all a bunch of fecking eegits."

McKay's eyebrows drew together, clearly not understanding, but Sheppard chuckled, "Well, that I understand." He leaned over the table, "Why do you think we're being idiots, Doctor."

"We need to talk about what happened, John."

Sheppard's eyes flickered to McKay briefly then back to Beckett, "It's over; we're here, we're okay, let's move on."

"Move on… simply move on, exactly how do we do that? I sat by Ronon's bed for hours, not knowing if he would survive, while Rodney was out searching for you."

Ronon grasped Beckett's shoulder, "No worries, Doc."

Beckett ran his hand through his hair, "I'm a doctor; I'm used to injury and dying, but somehow this is different. It's different from being on Atlan…" He stopped when Sheppard waved his hand to shush him as he started to speak Atlantis out loud. "Here, we're just friends, and we almost lost two of you, not once but twice since we left San Francisco. I just think we need to talk about it."

McKay stuttered, "I… I…," not able to finish his thought, he picked up his glass of ice water, taking a big gulp.

Scratching his head, Sheppard said, "I think what Rodney is trying to say is we're uncomfortable talking about the last few days. We've been through a lot, not just here; we should just move on."

Beckett frowned, his eyes tracking from Sheppard to McKay to Ronon, "If we're not going to discuss what happened to the two of you, could we at least have closure about the woman and her daughters who were kidnapped with you? I only know bits of what occurred, and I never got a chance to hear what you learned during the debriefing."

Chewing on his lower lip, Sheppard was about to answer when the server arrived with their drinks. He took a long sip of his scotch before he spoke.

"First, the good news, Lorne went by the hospital to check on Nora, and the girls before he returned to Cheyenne Mountain. Nora told him her husband, Jeff Tate was going to make a full recovery, despite being shot at blank range. She also said her daughters were fine, but they were all going to see a psychologist in order to deal with what they've been through."

"I think Nora is a very smart woman, seeing a psychologist is exactly what they should do." Beckett never took his eyes off Sheppard as he spoke.

Sheppard shifted in his chair and continued. "Lorne said the Tucson police released Vicente Cruz into FBI custody. He's being held on numerous charges, including kidnapping and the attempted murder of Ronon and Tate, in addition to the human trafficking charge, and a long list of drug charges. The FBI and Homeland Security are also investigating the Russian mob operating out of Tucson. The fact they arranged to sell me to the highest bidder, who Homeland suspects may be part of Al-Qaeda, made Homeland and the Pentagon a bit nervous."

McKay, appearing uneasy, asked, "What about Detective Martinez?"

"Going to be fine, Lorne said he was at the meeting with Montez, the police chief, and the state prosecutor."

"Montez was an ass," McKay sneered, then his face softened, "but John you'd have been proud of Lorne. He didn't take any BS from Montez, and he was in control the entire time."

Sheppard shrugged his shoulders, a slight grin on his face, "Never been a time I haven't been proud of Lorne. Not even when he tells me what I need to hear," he chuckled, "whether I want to hear it or not."

"He a good lad," Beckett pronounced and his friends nodded in agreement. Beckett hesitated, then asked, "Listen, Dr. Lam told me all of you refused to speak with Dr. Borgia before we left. Since you were all still on leave, she let it go, but she's left orders for each of you to be evaluated before you can return to active duty."

Ronon leaned forward, "I don't need one of those doctors."

The doctor smiled, "Laddie you do; you were badly injured, near death and…"

"Don't need one."

Sheppard lowered his voice, "Carson… I expected we'd have to see Ross Warren when we got back to… home. Why can't we leave this alone for now?"

"Because the three of you are obviously uncomfortable, and it will be at least two weeks before we get home. I talked to Dr. Borgia; it helped. I think if we just talked about this…"

Two servers arrived with dinner, and the friends turned quiet as they dug into their food. Sheppard popped a chunk of grilled ribeye steak into his mouth, chewed a bit, then jabbed his fork in the air.

"I think part of our problem is we are back at this hotel, and it's too familiar, too many memories. If everyone's okay with this, let's leave tomorrow and head east. I…" Sheppard hesitated, "I've been thinking I would like to stop and see my aunt in Louisiana." He glanced at his plate, not looking up to look his friends in the eyes. He was surprised Ronon was the one to answer.

"That would be good… I mean, leaving tomorrow and meeting your aunt."

"Okay, then… we leave tomorrow morning. After we finish dinner, let's hit the bar for a drink, and turn in early."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard rousted Ronon at dawn for a quick run, then woke up the other two, telling them they had thirty minutes to be packed and downstairs. He had Ronon bring the car around to the lobby portico, while he took care of the hotel bill. A groggy McKay and Beckett managed to get downstairs on time, both complaining about breakfast.

"I'm hungry and I need coffee," McKay snarked as he got in the Range Rover.

Sheppard was getting in the front passenger's seat, while Ronon took care of the bellhop. "Chill out, McKay." He reached down on the floorboard, where he'd stashed coffee, "I've got coffee right here, and we'll stop for breakfast in Tucson."

Cup of coffee in hand, McKay quieted down and a few minutes later they headed off Dove Mountain toward the interstate. Beckett was asleep before the left the hotel property.

Approaching Tucson, Sheppard was napping when McKay poked him in the shoulder, asking, "Uh… when are we stopping for breakfast. I'm starving."

Rubbing his eyes, Sheppard said, "Rodney, you can't be hungry, you ate two desserts last night. Besides, you put on a few pounds while we were at the SGC, wouldn't hurt you to miss a meal"

"I did not gain any weight."

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, "You spent two days sequestered in Lee's lab with the good doctor's stash of chips and cookies. I know you got into them."

"How do you know about his special locker?"

"Don't forget, I was stationed at Cheyenne for those months we were off Atlantis. After returning from missions, I raided his snacks, quicker than the mess."

He glanced at the GPS, "Chewie looks like we're about a mile from the exit to Grant Road." Ronon grunted a yes, and Sheppard glanced back at McKay, "If you can keep from fainting from hunger, we're just a few minutes away from an I-Hop, and you can eat all the pancakes you want."

McKay was out of the Rover first, and inside before Beckett woke up. Ronon opened the door and helped Beckett out.

"Thanks, laddie; I am really exhausted, must be coming down after the adrenaline rush of the last few days." He looked around, "Where's Rodney?"

Sheppard held the front door open, and as Beckett walked in replied, "He's already inside, must be really hungry." He chuckled, "I'm beginning to believe he has a tapeworm."

Beckett grinned, "Could be, Colonel, but I have a feeling he's just feeding that big brain of his."

As soon as they ordered, McKay pulled out a new pad, "Rodney, when did you get that?"

"Oh… uh… got it while we were at the SG… at Cheyenne. Lee ordered several for his team, and I liked it, so he gave me one."

"Lee gave you one... really?" McKay stared at him, and Sheppard added, "There better not be any SFs looking for us."

"Bite me, Lee gave this to me."

Ronon grinned, "Better leave him alone until he gets food; really cranky this morning."

Beckett changed the subject, "John, where are we going today?"

"We're going to stay on I-10 heading east for a while, stopping when we want to stop. Sound okay?"

"Sounds good to me, laddie, since I have no idea where that road goes." He beamed, "I like surprises."

Sheppard groaned, "No more surprises, Carson… not sure we could survive them."

"I hear ya and I…" Beckett stopped when McKay's cell phone rang.

Startled, McKay fumbled to pull the phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, nearly dropping it before he glanced at the screen, then answered, "Why are you calling me? Did those goons screw up something?" He listened for a moment, "No. I don't know what that means." He was silent again, scrunching his face up as he listened. "Zelenka, shut up a minute, what makes you think this is important?" After listening for another moment, McKay spoke, "I don't know, just keep me informed if you overhear anything else."

"What the hell was that about?"

McKay stared at Sheppard before he answered the colonel's question, "I don't know. Maybe just Zelenka's over active imagination but he thinks the Area… the goons have found something in the database."

"What makes him think that?"

"Said he overheard Dr. Narain talking about someplace called Responos or something like that. Mean anything to you?" Sheppard shook his head, and McKay asked, "No mention of Responos from uh… your girlfriend?"

"My what?"

"You know, Captain Kirk, the one that talks to you."

Realization hit Sheppard that McKay meant Atlantis, "No… she's never referred to anything by that name. What…" He stopped as the server brought their food, then asked, "Zelenka didn't hear anything else?"

McKay shook his head, "No, Radek said once Narain noticed he was in the room he dismissed the tech he was talking to. Radek said the tech was one of the people working on the database."

A pensive look crossed Sheppard's face, prompting Beckett to remark, "John… I've seen that look before when you're concerned about something. What are you thinking?"

Sheppard bit his lip, then gave Beckett an almost imperceptible shrug. "I don't know, Radek mentioned something a few weeks ago and when we were at Cheyenne Mountain, I got the feeling something was up. I asked Landry and Sam if something was going on, they both tapped danced around my question, Sam wouldn't tell me what the mission was she was on when recalled to save Ronon." He shrugged again, "I don't know, either something is up, or we're just being paranoid."

McKay, shoveling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, sputtered, "We should go back."

"No we're not going back, and please, McKay… don't talk with your mouth full, there's syrup all over your chin."

Frowning, McKay grabbed and napkin and wiped his chin, then pointed his empty fork at Sheppard, "Something is going on, I know it. We should be there."

"I said no, and don't pester Zelenka; he'll call if he finds out anything else. Now everyone... eat; we need to get on the road."

~ooOoo~

John Sheppard felt relaxed for the first time in more days than he wished to count. Slouched in the front passenger seat, arms folded across his chest; he gazed out the windshield through half-lidded eyes. The seemingly endless road stretched in front of them; worn black asphalt in stark contrast to the beige and gray of the sandy terrain, dotted occasionally with sparse green scrub brush. A distant lone ridge appeared to remain the same size regardless of how far they traveled toward it. The only thing that saved the monotonous view was the cornflower blue sky, dotted with wispy streaks of clouds.

He glanced at Ronon, so intent on driving, listening to the Brazilian jazz CDs he bought when they stopped for gas before leaving Tucson. While Ronon was fueling the Range Rover, he and Beckett walked to the drug store next to the service station. Beckett wanted some magazines and while there he browsed through a bin of cheap CDs, finding a couple of old Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings recordings along with a couple of Brazilian jazz CDs. He bought several and now they were listening to music by Sergio Mendes and Brazil 88. The Latin-flavored jazz, along with Mountain Dew, quickly became Ronon's favorite thing about Earth.

Low snoring drifted from the back seat; a quick look over his shoulder revealed Beckett was sound asleep, an open fishing magazine in his lap. Sheppard smiled knowing the soft tapping behind him was McKay on his laptop, lost in a project. This was what he hoped for when he had the harebrained idea to take a trip, peace and quiet with no real destination. As he settled into the seat, his eyes drifted to the dark-blue sky, and he was lost in the sensation of flying through the wispy clouds in an F-16.

A decrease in speed woke Sheppard up; he squinted to focus and saw they were off the interstate and turning into the parking lot of a food mart.

His voice hoarse with sleep, Sheppard asked, "Where are we?"

Ronon snickered, "A gas station in Deming; McKay needed a pit stop and wanted to stop at McDonald's. I needed gas, so I stopped here."

Sheppard laughed, "Well I have taught you, Obi-Wan."

From the back seat, McKay whined, "I only wanted to go where I knew the restrooms would be clean."

Ronon stopped the Rover next to a gas pump, and as Sheppard opened his door, "I know you too well, Rodney McKay." He looked at his watch, "It's been three hours since you ate, you wanted food." He hopped out, stretching his legs and McKay followed.

"I did not want food," McKay declared and stomped off for the food mart.

Beckett woke up, rubbed his eyes and joined Sheppard, who was walking toward the store. "Rodney hungry? That why we stopped?"

"Said he needed a pit stop but yeah, he's hungry."

Sheppard and Beckett were paying for drinks and snacks when McKay came from the back of the store. Sheppard grinned, "Clean enough for you?"

"Bite me." He looked into the bag on the counter, "Thought you weren't hungry?"

"Never said that; watch the bag, gotta make a pit stop myself."

Back on the road, Beckett handed out the drinks and snacks. Handing Sheppard a bottle of Coke, he asked, "John, you got a soft drink? You never drink those things."

As he took the bottle of Coke and a package of Zingers from Beckett, Sheppard answered, "Decided to walk on the wild side, Doc." He opened the Coke and took a swig, almost relishing the sweet acidic burn in his throat. "Got out of the habit of drinking these in Antarctica; hard to come by there."

While he was munching on a Zinger, McKay, who had already finished his chocolate cupcakes, asked him, "Where are we going to stop tonight?"

"Don't care, any place you want to stop?"

"Uh… I've never been to White Sands, and the site where they tested the atomic bomb. After visiting that museum in Vegas, I'd like to go there."

Sheppard looked at the GPS on the dash, "Okay; we're less than an hour from Las Cruces. Let's stay there; the Trinity site's on the northern edge of the White Sands Missile range. We'll go there tomorrow." He looked over the seat, "McKay, find us a hotel in Las Cruces."

An hour later, Ronon stopped in front of the Hotel Encanto portico. The multi-story hotel was designed in the Spanish Colonial style, the exterior adobe colored, red Spanish tiles on the roof. Sheppard got out of the Rover as a bellman hurried toward them, laughing silently as Ronon tossed the man the keys and told him to park it after he got the luggage out. He felt a moment of pride, Ronon was no longer the outsider on Earth, the Satedan caught on quickly.

McKay got out and Sheppard punched him in the arm, "You did very well; this place is gorgeous."

"Ow… don't do that. Well, this hotel's on me, so don't drink up all the little liquor bottles in the room."

Beckett walked past, "That's our Rodney." He grabbed McKay by the arm, "Come on then, get us checked in."

Native pottery, live plants, large flower arrangements, and richly upholstered furniture, in hues of cream and red, with touches of cobalt blue scattered about, filled the warm, cozy lobby. The corridor leading to the elevators ended in an alcove with an enormous silver cross standing against a cobalt blue wall.

Rodney booked four seventh-floor suites overlooking the pool for them. Sheppard tipped the bellman delivering his bags, and walked into the bedroom, plopping down on the king-size bed. Sinking into the numerous pillows, he stretched, surprised he felt terrific. His fingertips traced along his abdomen; he should have a scar from the wound he suffered when rescuing Rodney from his kidnappers. But that scar, along with the others he collected the last few weeks, was gone, compliments of Sam Carter and the Goa'uld healing device.

He was having difficulty reconciling the reality of what occurred in Tucson with the physical condition he was in. His mind recalled the pain from the beating he took but not even a twinge of pain radiated as he flexed his muscles. Flopping his arms over his head, Sheppard wondered if Ronon was having the same problem. Maybe Carson was right; it might be good to talk to someone. He scoffed; it was not really in his nature to want to see a shrink, but the last few days had been unnerving. That's it, he decided, he'd talk to Ross Warren when they returned to Atlantis. He laughed out loud, and said, "John, you know better; you'll change your mind before you get back."

He jumped up and walked into the bathroom, startled at the décor; there was a huge soaking tub in the corner, accessible by steps covered in the same dark sand tile as the floor. The walls of the bathroom were deep cinnamon red; the tub area decorated with columns, dark urns, and illuminate by recessed lighting.

He whistled lightly, saying, "Okay, from now on Rodney picks the hotels."

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was time to join his friends for a late lunch in the hotel dining room. He washed his hands, splashed water on his face and after debating whether he'd rather soak in the tub or eat, he reluctantly headed for the lobby.

Beckett was in the hallway waiting for the elevator, and flashed an enormous smile, "Did you see the pool, laddie? After lunch, I'm going swimming."

"No, I only saw the tub in my room. You got one of those big sunken Jacuzzi tubs?"

"Aye, and I can tell you, I'll be in it after a swim."

Pursing his lips, Sheppard said, "I can't believe Rodney booked suites for us." The elevator arrived and Sheppard added, "Don't let on how much we like the rooms. You know Rodney; we'll never hear the end of it."

Beckett snickered, "No reason to give the lad any ammunition; he pesters us enough as it is."

Sheppard and Beckett entered the terra cotta and blue main restaurant, nearly deserted in mid-afternoon. They found McKay and Ronon sitting at a table on the covered patio outside the hacienda style restaurant's main area.

Beckett sat down, gazing at their surroundings, "We've stayed in a lot of nice hotels on this trip, and I really loved the houseboat, but this place is amazing."

"You check out that tub?" Ronon asked as he scarfed down salsa and chips.

Sheppard and Beckett laughed, and Sheppard answered, "Yep, pretty cool."

Expecting McKay to snark about the hotel, Sheppard glanced up from his menu to see McKay staring at the fountain, oblivious to their chatter regarding the hotel. Sheppard knew that look, the scientist was preoccupied with what was happening on Atlantis.

As he was opening his menu, Sheppard said, "McKay, stop worrying about what Radek told you this morning."

"What makes you think I'm worried about that?"

"Because we all nearly gave you a compliment on the hotel selection and the suites you booked for us, and you are sitting there brooding when you should be preening. So stop it, if there is something going on, we will find out soon enough."

"But Sheppard…." He stopped when Sheppard put up his hand.

"Nope, no more… unless Radek calls with more info, we don't discuss this."

McKay stuffed a tortilla chip in his mouth, chewed it up and grinned slyly, "So you like the hotel, huh?"

"No to that as well…" Sheppard replied, "Your window of opportunity to preen is over."

"Don't need to talk about it, you like the hotel," he replied smugly, his head bouncing from side to side.

Ronon glared at McKay and Beckett sighed, saying, "Rodney, you are a fecking eegit."

Sheppard intervened, "Okay, you two leave McKay alone, let's order."

Scanning the menu, Beckett commented, "I hope they have a burrito like the tasty ones we had in Tucson." He paled, realizing what he had said, "Oh, laddies, sorry; I promised myself I wasn't going to bring that night up."

Sheppard, about to stuff a tortilla chip, dripping in salsa into his mouth, paused to reply. "It's okay; we need to put the bad stuff behind us, but we can't forget the good stuff, and the food at that restaurant was definitely part of the good stuff."

Beckett sighed, "I will never understand how you can go through what you go through, Colonel, and act as if nothing happened."

"Not so hard, Doc."

Beckett shook his head, "Ya don't fool me for a moment, laddie. I know better."

Sheppard was saved from replying when the server arrived with their beers and took their orders. After taking a swig of his beer, he told McKay, "It surprises me that you've never been to Trinity. How come?"

"I don't know; never had the time I suppose. I studied about the Manhattan Project in high school and always wanted to go, just never made it."

"Well, I think we might need an invitation to get in. There's a museum on the base, but I think the Trinity site itself is only open twice a year. I'll call Holloman after lunch and see if we can get permission to go to the site."

McKay's shoulders slumped a bit, "You think we can't get in?"

A bit surprised McKay seemed disappointed, Sheppard quickly added, "I know the Base Commander, not only did I attend Weapons School with him at Nellis, but served with him in Afghanistan. At one time, he also served under a certain general we all know, Jack O'Neill, so I'll call O'Neill if I have any issues with Cooper."

"How did you know he served with O'Neill?"

Sheppard raised his eyebrows, "Last time I was at Cheyenne Mountain for my effectiveness report, right after we arrived, O'Neill was there for an IOA meeting." He paused, "Mercifully the IOA was arriving after I left, and I didn't have to see our little friend." He paused again as McKay whispered 'weasel' under his breath, then continued, "O'Neill and I went out for dinner and a few beers, and we ended up discussing who we knew in common; Cooper's name came up."

Ronon asked Sheppard, "You been to this Trinity place before?"

He shook his head, "No; I spent two weeks at Holloman when I was a cadet, the Academy sent us there for training in career options, then I spent a few weeks there assigned to a unit training German AF pilots, but never made it out to ground zero."

"That place we were at in Vegas, this is where that bomb went off?"

"Yep, this is where the bomb dropped at Hiroshima was developed and tested."

"Like what Cowen was making?"

"Yep, Chewie, same thing."

The server brought their food, and their attention turned from bombs to eating. After their meal, Sheppard, Ronon, and Beckett decided to hit the pool. McKay begged off, and a reluctant Sheppard agreed. He suspected McKay would be on the phone with Zelenka before he reached his room.

A half-hour after finishing lunch, Sheppard, clad in his swimsuit, was basking in the warm, late-afternoon sun, stretched out on an orange lounger next to a crystal blue pool. Ronon was swimming laps; Beckett sitting on the side of the pool, dangling his legs.

Nearly lulled to sleep, Sheppard jumped when his cell phone, laying on the small table next to his lounger, buzzed. He sat up, grabbing the phone; a quick glance told him the call was from Holloman.

"John Sheppard is that you?"

"Hey, Coop, good to talk to you. Congrats on your command."

"Thanks and I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to get a call from Colonel John Sheppard. Congrats to you as well… where the hell are you stationed?"

Sheppard hesitate a second, "Thanks and sorry, but my current assignment is classified, you're just gonna have to guess."

"Ah… keeping things close to the vest as always. You know Henry Kresey's stationed here now, but was at Edwards on a TDY a couple of months ago and told me he saw you, but never caught up with you. Said he asked about you and got nowhere fast… so whatever you're doing, must be top secret."

His gut clenched when he heard Kresey's name, the guy was not one of his favorite people, but he didn't let on to Cooper, "Sorry I missed him. So you got my request?"

"Yeah and no problem, stop by the base, and I'll have passes waiting for you at the main gate by 0900. I've notified White Sands you and the three other names you left on the voice mail will be visiting the site. I'm sorry I can't join you; I'd love to catch up, but I've got brass coming in tomorrow, and I have a meeting in about three minutes. But great to know you are doing good, glad you beat that rap; it wasn't fair, Shep."

"I'm kinda glad myself. Sorry we can't spend some time together but maybe next time. Thanks for the passes, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, hope to hear from you soon. And Shep, a suggestion, go to La Posta de Mesilla for dinner tonight. It's in a historical area, and the food is great, just a couple of miles from Las Cruces."

Sheppard thanked him for the suggestion, ended the call and flopped back on the lounger, talking to former unit members was never easy for him. With only a few exceptions, he expected to be shunned by most of the people he served with in Afghanistan, and expected a lot of incredulous reactions upon learning about his promotion. Cooper was a good guy, easy-going, rational, and he wasn't surprised by Cooper saying the black mark against him wasn't fair. Kresey was another story, and one bastard he hoped never to cross paths with again.

Movement next to him rousted him from his thoughts, he opened his eyes to see Beckett sitting down on the adjoining lounger. Beckett asked, "That the commander at Holloman?"

"It was and he's getting passes for us. We can pick them up at the base in the morning."

"You get along with him?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"I was watching you and a really dark look crossed your face. Figured he said something about…"

Sheppard rubbed his temples, "No... Cooper's a good guy, told me he was happy for my promotion and thought the other situation was… unfair. I guess you were looking at me when he mentioned someone I hoped never to see again."

"Someone involved in your situation?"

"No… a bastard that caused one of my crew to commit suicide."

Beckett had laid down, but sat up at Sheppard's revelation, "What happened?"

"You know the type Carson, the macho blowhard, who throws his opinion around as if what he thinks matters. One of my crew, Lieutenant Jay Morgan, was a quiet kid, right out of college, and this jerk Kresey decided he was quiet because he was gay. I have no idea if he was, he might have been considering what happened, but no one in our unit cared. Kresey, however, thought differently and what he did likely led Morgan to kill himself."

"What did the bampot do?"

"He… what's a bampot?"

"An idiot…"

"Carson, how many words do you Scots have for idiots?"

"Ah, laddie, many… there's lots of idiots in the world."

Sheppard managed a slight grin, "Yeah there are. Anyway, we were stateside; I was being reassigned to Special Ops at Hurlburt, and Morgan was heading for helo training. He and a few buddies went to a club in town popular with the military, and Kresey was there. There was a juke box in the club and Morgan played some song Kresey decided was gay, and he made a scene. One of the patrons told the police Kresey was very drunk and wouldn't stop complaining about the song. He went up to Morgan and verbally abused him, called him a fag and every other foul insult he could drag up. The patron reported Morgan kept his cool, handling the confrontation, but he must have been devastated to be ridiculed and taunted. Later, an SR on late-night patrol found his body, hanging from a ten-foot fence that surrounded a deck attached to his barracks. He'd used his belt, buckled it around his neck and fastened it to the top of the fence, then jumped off."

"Tragic for a young man to kill himself, John, regardless of the reason."

Sheppard nodded, as the dark look Beckett noticed earlier returned, "I confronted Kresey, told him I knew he was responsible for Morgan's death. Bastard denied it, said Morgan was a fag and should have been thrown out of the Air Force. I was really close to slugging the SOB when my CO, who heard us arguing, came out of his office and broke it up. I never wanted to hit anyone as much as I wanted to hit Kresey."

"Aye, laddie, a man like that needs to be put in his place, but unfortunately, they never seem to be."

"Hopefully, someday, whether someone is gay or not won't matter. I'm pretty sure there are more gays serving in the military than anyone knows. It's silly for us to keep them from serving openly."

Carson sighed, "Lots of scared people in the world. People are motivated by fear, of the unknown or their own desires, hard to fight unreasonable fear."

"Well, can't solve the world's problems, at least this world." Sheppard glanced at his watch, "I know we just ate, but Cooper told me about a good restaurant, not too far from here. It's around 1630, maybe we need to figure out what we're going to do tonight."

"Sounds good to me. I think I'll lay here, dry off and soak up some sun."

Sheppard got up, "I'm gonna take a quick dip, then we'll make some plans."

~ooOoo~

At 1910 hours, Sheppard rose from the comfortable lobby couch, told Beckett and Ronon he'd be back, and headed for McKay's suite. After Sheppard pounded on the door for a couple of minutes, McKay jerked open the door, then spun, walking toward the dresser as he buttoned his shirt. Sheppard strode in behind him, "McKay you're late again. Next time you yell at one of your scientists for being tardy to your morning meeting, I'm telling on you." McKay opened his mouth but Sheppard was faster, "And don't say bite me."

McKay closed his mouth, walking to the dresser to grab his belt. As he was putting it on, he spoke, "Something's up on Atlantis; I can feel it."

Sheppard leaned against the wall, arms crossed, "So you have spidy sense now?"

"Don't patronize me, something is wrong."

Throwing up his hands, Sheppard replied, "Look, nothing's wrong, I'm pretty sure if there was a major problem on Atlantis, Woolsey and Landry would have ordered us back."

"But…" McKay pointed his finger in the air.

"Let me finish…" Sheppard had his own finger up, "I didn't say I didn't think something was going on. I've thought that for a long time. But we don't know what it is and there is nothing we can do about it at the moment."

McKay picked up his jacket, "If you think there is something going on, don't you think we should go back?"

"No, I don't. If something is going on, it's above our pay grade. I learned a long time ago it's better not to ask too many questions."

Slipping on his jacket, McKay scrunched up his face in frustration, "Okay, if you say so."

"Rodney, do you have Zelenka snooping around?"

McKay bit his lower lip, then nodded. Sheppard straightened up, "Let's go eat and forget about this for tonight."

As McKay closed his door, he asked Sheppard wryly, "You're gonna call Lorne and have him snoop around, aren't you?"

Sheppard headed for the elevator saying, "Tomorrow morning."

The La Posta de Mesilla restaurant was located in a sprawling building within the boundaries of historic Old Mesilla. The single story was covered in aged white stucco, with small barred windows painted blue and a flat roof edged with tile, flags of the territories from the past and present flying above. As Sheppard pulled into the parking lot, McKay began whining.

"This place looks like a dump. I thought your buddy said it was great."

Sheppard parked and turned around to glare at McKay, when he spoke, his tone was flat, "For once, will you keep an open mind and enjoy yourself. This is a historic landmark; I read up on it. You're so all-fired ready to learn all you can about Pegasus, maybe you need to learn about Earth. Let's go have a nice dinner."

With Sheppard and Beckett in the lead and Ronon herding McKay, the four entered the festive lobby filled with cages of exotic birds, aquariums, paintings reflecting the area, and a large fountain nestled in the wall. Ronon, fascinated by the colorful birds wandered to look at them, while Sheppard checked on a table. McKay and Beckett sat down on an adobe bench jutting from the fountain wall.

Sheppard walked over to McKay and Beckett, "Just be a few minutes; they're clearing a table in the Blacksmith Room now."

McKay wrinkled his nose, "Noisy in here with all those birds."

Sheppard looked toward the bird cages to see Ronon nose-to-nose with a Toucan. He slipped up beside the big man, "Better watch it; he might bite."

Ronon grinned, "I remember a plan… a place I visited where there were birds like this, no people just lots of these birds. I was hungry, but I couldn't bring myself to kill one to eat. It was the first time I had seen so much color in such a long time. There was lots of fruit there, the trees were bursting with all kinds, so I ate my fill. It was warm, and I stayed there as long as I dared. It was a better place than most I visited."

"You think you can remember the address?" Ronon turned his head slightly and nodded. Sheppard smiled, "Then when we get home, we'll go there. I'd like to see it."

The hostess caught Sheppard's attention and led them to a table in the Blacksmith Room. The tables were covered with red table and colorful flowered runners, but the focal point of the room was a fireplace painted cobalt blue, sitting on a tall hearth and trimmed in Spanish tiles. Blue glass pendant lights suspended in front of the fireplace cast a soft bluish glow.

The moment they sat down, a server appeared with a basket of chips and a bowl of thick salsa, and taking one look at Ronon, said he'd return with another bowl of chips and more salsa. Another server followed immediately getting their drink and appetizer order.

Sheppard wasted no time diving into the chips, "Whoa... this is great salsa, just hot enough."

Beckett was absently eating tortilla chips as he gazed around the room, "John, what is this place?"

"I looked up the website after we left the pool, the place was built in the 1840s. You guys remember we watched that movie _Judge Roy Bean_ last year?" Everyone nodded, and Sheppard continued, "Roy and his brother Sean ran a freight and passenger line at this location during the 1850s. After the Civil War, the La Posta Compound became a major stop on the Butterfield Stagecoach Line, and later the Corn Exchange Hotel opened in the building. I guess the restaurant was started when the hotel did; been here ever since."

Waving a tortilla chip, Beckett said, "I overheard someone say something about Billy the Kid when we were waiting in the lobby. Was he from around here?"

Ronon cocked his head, "Billy the Kid?"

"Yeah, Chewie, another Old West outlaw…"

Ronon grinned, "You had a lot of those."

"We still have outlaws now, but I think they are called bankers and politicians." He paused as the server brought their beers and appetizers. They dug into the chili con queso and guacamole with gusto.

Beckett, chugged down about half of his beer, and tried the guacamole, "Umm, this is good stuff. But don't you eat any Rodney, or the salsa; it has lime juice in it."

McKay scrunched up his face at Beckett and dug into the chili con queso.

Sheppard grinned, "So, Carson you like baby food, huh."

"You remembered, laddie, I'm surprised."

"Told you we could remember the good stuff that happened at the El Charro. I remember you told us that your sister made some and served it to your mum. Your poor mother thought it was baby food, and that it was your sister's way of telling her she was pregnant."

"Aye, John, exactly… you were paying attention."

"It was a funny story… I can only imagine your mother's face when she found out what the green stuff really was."

Ronon interrupted, "So… what's up with this Billy the Kid."

Sheppard shrugged, "Don't know much about him, when I read about Mesilla, there was a bit about him. Legend has it he killed twenty-one men, but history says he killed less than ten. He came here and went to work for a group of land owners, got involved in what they called the Lincoln County Wars. Bunch of business guys got into a squabble over cattle, and it got bloody. Eventually, Sheriff Pat Garrett went after Billy and captured him, he was tried here but escaped. Garrett caught up with him and killed Billy. Beyond that I don't know a lot more about him."

Deciding to order, the four men busied themselves perusing the menu, and called over the server. As they waited, they chatted about the décor of the restaurant and its history. Ronon, intrigued with the artwork hanging in the restaurant, wandered through the dining rooms to check out the paintings.

The server returned, laden with their meals and margaritas. The icy drink was served in heavy stemmed glasses, a thick coating of salt covering the green glass rim. As Sheppard reached for his glass, Beckett stopped him.

"I think a toast is in order." He paused, "To good friends…" he grinned, "and to a fun and uneventful remainder of this vacation."

As their glasses clinked, McKay muttered, "If only…"

Sheppard shook his head, "Way to go with the optimism, Rodney."

"Well… why should I be optimistic? Every time we turn around, we get shot or beaten-up…"

A couple of patrons at a nearby table turned, staring at them. Sheppard quickly shushed him, "Stop and lower your voice; our exploits aren't for other ears."

McKay's eyes darted around, a sheepish look crossing his face; he took a quick sip of his margarita, then dug into his food.

Darkness greeted them as they left the restaurant, and the exterior lights transformed the restaurant's pale adobe walls into shades of green, with white lights scattered about. McKay commented, "This place sure looks better after dark."

Sheppard, punching the remote to unlock the Range Rover's doors replied, "You look better after dark." Prompting Beckett to snicker and Ronon to thump McKay on the back.

"Har de har har, Colonel Flyboy."

Beckett was still laughing, "Rodney you walked into that comment; ya have to admit."

Getting in the Rover, McKay snarked, "Whatever."

Sated from the spicy food and two margaritas each, no one spoke much on the short trip to the hotel. Beckett fell asleep and Rodney was quiet, no doubt consumed with thoughts regarding Atlantis. Ronon was slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead.

Quietly, Sheppard asked, "What's on your mind, Chewie?"

Ronon's chest expanded as he took a deep breath, "Been thinking about the paintings at the restaurant. You remember my mother was an art teacher?" Sheppard said yes, and Ronon continued, "She told me I was pretty good, gave me lessons. I painted when I was young, but the Wraith…" he grimaced. "I haven't painted in a while, seeing those paintings in the restaurant made me miss it."

"You should start."

"Yeah…" he shrugged, "Lorne told me he'd help me."

Their conversation creased as they approached a fire station, and an engine pulled out in front of them, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Sheppard followed the fire truck until they reached the hotel, the flashing lights fading into the distance. After a brief discussion about having a drink in the bar, they decided since they planned on leaving early in the morning, they'd call it a night.

Sheppard unlocked the door to his suite and passed through the darkened living room into the bedroom, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. Throwing the discarded clothes onto a chair, he headed for the bathroom. Since leaving La Posta, the thought of soaking in the Jacuzzi was beckoning him.

He turned on the faucet full blast and returned to the bedroom, slipping off his boots and the rest of his clothes. Spotting the snack cabinet, he chuckled softly and padded over, taking out two miniature scotch bottles. As he unwrapped a heavy glass tumbler, he knew McKay would whine when he saw the liquor on the bill. He also knew McKay wouldn't mean it; the acerbic scientist simply loved to whine.

He poured the amber contents of the tiny bottles into the glass and returned to the bathroom. When the tub was full enough, he flipped on the jets and sank down in the frothy hot water. For a few minutes, he abandoned all thoughts and immersed himself in the warmth.

After a few minutes, he tucked a rolled towel under his head and rested against the tiled tub rim. Taking a sip of the smooth Scotch, he savored the taste, a slight smile crossing his lips. He thought back nearly seven years, to McMurdo.

Hot soaks in a Jacuzzi located in a luxury suite was about as far as he could come from the cramped, lukewarm showers in Antarctica. For the first time in years, he thought about the moment that he touched the Ancient chair and felt the tingle of power flow into his fingertips. Beckett was there, chattering about stargates, and ancient genes but all he felt was the need to sit in the ornate chair.

One of his assignments on McMurdo was to test new helos and on more than one occasion during a test flight, he found himself drawn to Base Seven, a secret Air Force installation located miles from McMurdo. Why he felt compelled to return to the base over and over was something he didn't understand until the day he ferried General O'Neill to the base.

Attacked by an errant drone on the way, the general gave him clearance to enter the compound as a reward for, as O'Neill described it, his excellent flying eluding the drone. He wandered around until he entered an alcove finding the chair. Sighing, Sheppard took a drink of Scotch, thinking how it felt to touch it, and how as he circled the chair, he felt compelled to sit down. He remembered the rush of power flowing through him as he sat, the chair lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Visions of faces flashed before him, Elizabeth, Rodney, Daniel Jackson, and O'Neill running toward him. Rodney asking him to imagine where he was in the galaxy and images of stars and planets appearing out of thin air. Sheppard rubbed his eyes as he thought how confused he was then, and how he wasn't certain he was any less confused now. How he ended up with such a powerful gene thousands of years after the Ancients returned to Earth was still a mystery. His connection to Atlantis grew stronger with each passing day, and he found he missed interacting with the AI while they were gallivanting around the US.

He drank more scotch, then laughed aloud, "Well, John, seems like the only woman in your life is a computer. There is definitely something wrong with this picture."

After nearly thirty minutes, he reluctantly stepped out of the Jacuzzi, quickly crossing the tiled floor to the glass-enclosed shower. Grabbing the soap, he lathered up, rinsed, and pulling a towel off the warming rack, dried off. Grabbing what was left of his drink, he walked into the bedroom.

He tossed most of the decorative bed pillows onto the chair and pulled the ultra-soft sheets back. Without dressing, he slid beneath the covers; he'd always preferred to sleep in the nude, but years of needing to be combat ready in a split second tempered that desire. This trip at least allowed him that small pleasure.

Downing the last swallow of scotch, Sheppard turned out the bedside light. As he drifted to sleep, visions of his friends floated through his mind, replaced by visions of his family. The last thought he had was of his aunt Adelise, he knew then he wanted to go home.

~ooOoo~

"Good morning, sir; welcome to Holloman. May I see your IDs and vehicle registration?"

Sheppard handed over their CAC cards, driver's licenses and the rental papers on the Rover, "Good morning, Airman; I'm Colonel John Sheppard. Colonel Cooper said there would be passes waiting for us." The young SFO nodded, saying he would check and stepped inside the security booth.

Beckett chuckled, "I don't think that young man believed we're with the Air Force."

"Could be because not a single one of us has shaved in a couple of days. We do look a bit scruffy," Sheppard replied.

Ronon grunted, "I always look this way."

Sheppard looked over at Ronon and had to agree; with the dreadlocks and craggy facial hair, he did always look the same. "You're right, but I must say after all these weeks, I'm still surprised to see you in jeans and shirt, makes you look a little different."

"At least the lad wears shirts that are in style in contrast to Rodney," Beckett teased.

"Really funny, Carson… what's wrong with my shirt?"

"It's paisley, green and brown paisley."

"So? I like it."

Turning to look at Carson, who was behind him, Sheppard said, "Bet he wore that shirt in college."

"I did not; I got this in grad school…" McKay plopped back against the seat, "Great… that was smart."

Sheppard was about to reply when the airman returned.

"Colonel Sheppard, sir," He handed their IDs and an envelope to Sheppard, "Your IDs, and vehicle papers, vehicle pass, and an authorization letter from Colonel Cooper. The letter gives you permission to travel through the Missile Range, and visit the Trinity Site. You will need to present the letter to the MP at the gate leading onto White Sands, sir. "

"Thank you, Airman Simon," Sheppard passed the IDs and envelope to Ronon, who distributed them and then placed the vehicle pass on the left side of the dash.

"Sir, Colonel Cooper left a note suggesting you take the route through the missile range to get to the Trinity Site. It will still take around two hours, but it's a more direct route; here's a marked map, sir. Also, there are no facilities at Trinity, so the Colonel suggested you might like to take advantage of the Officer's Club before you leave the base." Airman Simon was grinning.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Thank you, Airman."

"Yes, sir. After we conduct a security sweep of your vehicle, take this road until you come to the flightline, then turn left, you'll see the Officer's Club across from Hanger C."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, handing him the Rover's keys. The SRs finished checking the rear hatch, under the hood and sweeping a mirror underneath the vehicle, then raised the security barrier, and he drove through the gate. A few minutes later, he parked outside the Officer's Club, "Okay, everyone out. It's going to be a long ride without a pit stop."

~ooOoo~

"How much further?"

From the front passenger seat, Sheppard said, "Could you please stop asking how much further it is?

Beckett added, "Rodney, you're the one that wanted to visit this place, so stop complaining."

"I'm not complaining; I'm just asking. We aren't going very fast."

"Like you do when you drive?" Sheppard replied. "We're on an Army base; I think we need to respect the speed limit. I doubt Landry will bail us out of the stockade."

"This is desolate county," Beckett said, "at least on the main highways we saw other vehicles and road signs."

"That's why they tested the bomb here, no one living for miles," Rodney said.

Beckett looked over at McKay, "What are you working on? That looks like Atlantis on your screen."

"Nothing," McKay answered.

Sheppard turned around, "McKay, what are you working on? I know you've been hiding something."

"I'm only looking over some reports Radek sent me, nothing to see here."

"You talk to Radek this morning?"

"Yes and nothing new. Did you talk to Lorne?"

Sheppard tapped his fingers on the armrest, "I did, and he definitely suspects something's going on. He also believes Woolsey is as much in the dark as we are. Lorne said he'd let us know if he discovers anything, so we wait. And to answer your question, we should be at the site in about forty minutes."

Everyone settled in again, Ronon driving, Sheppard playing games on a hand-held device, Beckett reading a fishing magazine, and McKay tapping away on his laptop. The only noise was the sound of the Rover's tires on the rough asphalt and Willie Nelson from the CD player, until Ronon said, "Uh… Sheppard."

Sheppard looked up to see a number of dark forms heading straight toward them, getting larger every second. He pointed out the front window, "Raptors," as a squadron of F-22s flew over, so low the heavy Range Rover rocked from the wash of the jet engines. Sheppard spun in his seat to watch through the back window as the fighters rapidly disappeared.

Grinning broadly, Sheppard said, "That was cool."

Ronon asked, "What were they?"

"F-22s out of Holloman, probably on a training run; dangerous flying so low if one of them had to eject." He shuddered, "Wouldn't want to have to do that again, especially at low altitude; odds are not good."

"John, you ever ejected from a plane?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard nodded, "Not something I want to do again." Shifting in his seat, he continued, "I started out flying F-15s; I graduated from the Academy in May and was flying sorties in the Gulf in August. When the war ended, I was rotated stateside and ordered to re-cert. I was TDY at Edwards with a bunch of guys who were in Iraq; all of us had logged more hours than the instructor who was doing the re-cert."

He chewed on his bottom lip, "I had the stick when we struck a flock of birds, came up from beneath us. I was about to power up to gain control of the plane again, when the instructor took the stick and started slowing our air speed. I was yelling at him to give it gas, but he ignored me. When it became evident he was going to crash, I told him to eject, and I pulled the lever, and got out of there. He figured it out and bailed a couple of seconds later."

"That must have been unnerving, laddie."

"Mostly, I was pissed. One, he took the stick away from me; second, he panicked and nearly got us both killed. Luckily, that didn't happen, but I can tell you, ejecting from a jet is quite a ride, I was sore for a week."

McKay asked, "What happened to the other pilot?

"There was an investigation and he was found responsible for the loss of the aircraft. He was only required to take additional training, and remained an instructor pilot. Too much money goes into training and into training the trainer, so they just slapped his wrist and called it poor judgment."

"I would imagine flying jets would be quite exciting. What made you start flying helos?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard drummed his fingers on the armrest again, taking a second before he answered. "During the Gulf War, I was stationed with a group of SOs; they were flying Paves, made a lot of missions right into the thick of things, air rescue, troop deployment; they'd come back from missions exhilarated. I was only flying sorties to take out weapon's installations. They kept after me to join the Special Ops division, so when I returned to the US, I applied and was accepted; transferred to Hurlburt and began training. When I got the chance, I applied for helo training and never looked back. Had a knack for flying helicopters so that's pretty much what I flew from that point on. I did keep my training and certs up for jets, just in case I ever needed to hop back in the seat."

He paused, chewing on his lower lip, then continued, "Came in handy once I was assigned to McMurdo. Was able to train on a bunch of different helos there, plenty of time on my hands."

"Like we have now, why couldn't you just get a chopper to take us?" McKay whined.

Before Sheppard could answer him, Beckett snapped, "Rodney, John got you on the base, now be quiet and play with your computer."

"I'm not playing."

Sheppard grinned, "Then what are you working on?"

"Leave me alone."

Forty minutes passed quickly, as Ronon and Beckett peppered Sheppard with questions regarding his tours in the Gulf War and after. Ronon spotted the fencing first, "That it?"

"Yeah, Chewie, think that's it. Looks like someone is waiting for us."

Ronon pulled up next to a small visitor's hut, and exiting the Rover; Sheppard took a couple of steps toward the approaching Army officer, who spoke.

"Colonel Sheppard, I presume," extending his hand, "I'm Captain Scott Hargood, welcome to the Trinity Site, sir."

"Captain, let me introduce you to Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Ronon Dex. Thanks for allowing us to visit the site on such short notice."

"No problem sir, the missile range is quiet today, so the perfect time for visitors."

Grinning Sheppard asked, "And if I might ask Captain, what did you do to have the pleasure of opening the site up for us?"

Laughing, Captain Hargood replied, "Word of advice, never lose a poker game to your commanding officer. She's hell at poker, sir."

"I've had a couple of COs like that myself," Sheppard replied.

Ronon and Beckett wandered over a large, dark steel canister sitting near a path. Captain Harwood called out to them, "That's 'Jumbo,' it's a steel casing originally designed to contain the explosion, but the scientists decided it wasn't necessary. They put the thing on a steel tower nearly 800 yards from the blast; this was all that survived."

"This way, gentlemen," the captain unlocked a gate covering a long wide walkway. "Ground Zero is about a quarter mile this way." Pointing to the ominous radioactive caution signs, Harwood said, "Don't worry, radiation is very low here, only about ten times the naturally-occurring radiation anywhere in New Mexico, you get more exposure from a chest x-ray."

Before they headed down the wide dirt path to the site, the captain handed them pamphlets, "These are the brochures that are handed out to visitors. We hold open house on the first Saturday in October and April for the general public."

"Uh… that sign says toilets," McKay said, pointing to a mileage sign with arrow-shaped wooden planks pointing in various directions, words painted on them. "I don't see any."

"Sorry Doctor, we only bring port-a-potties out here when we have the open house."

"Come on, McKay… you'll just have to wait." Sheppard smiled and popped him on the shoulder with his fist.

They walked down the long path, falling silent as the reality of where they were sunk in. Approaching the large oval area where the bomb exploded, a simple obelisk made of black lava rock rose on the exact center of the explosion. A plaque noting the site was where the first nuclear device exploded on July 16, 1945 was attached to one side.

Beckett, standing next to the obelisk, was reading the brochure, "Listen to this lads, this essay was written by Ralph Carlisle Smith; he was a lawyer at Los Alamos. He witnessed the explosion and wrote about it."

Beckett read from the brochure:

"…_another rocket went up about minus one minute. About then you could hear the warning siren at the bivouac area._

_I was staring straight ahead with my open left eye covered by a welder's glass and my right eye remaining open and uncovered. Suddenly, my right eye was blinded by a light which appeared instantaneously all about without any buildup of intensity. My left eye could see the ball of fire start up like a tremendous bubble or nob-like mushroom. I dropped the glass from my left eye almost immediately and watched the light climb upward. The light intensity fell rapidly hence did not blind my left eye but it was still amazingly bright. It turned yellow, then red, and then beautiful purple. At first it had a translucent character but shortly turned to a tinted or colored white smoke appearance. The ball of fire seemed to rise in something of toadstool effect. Later the column proceeded as a cylinder of white smoke; it seemed to move ponderously. A hole was punched through the clouds but two fog rings appeared well above the white smoke column."_

Beckett's voice was hushed, "What did we do that day?"

Sheppard looked around for Captain Harwood's location, before he replied; the captain had walked on toward the far fence, where memorial pictures were mounted and was out of ear range. "Remember something, we wouldn't have survived on Atlantis without this technology. We used a nuclear explosion to get rid of that nanovirus the first year we were on Atlantis, then we used atomic bombs to take out the Wraith. So, maybe what these guys did here over sixty-five years ago saved our lives."

"You are right, laddie, but I still don't think nuclear weapons are for the better good."

"Me neither," Sheppard replied, as he glanced at McKay, who was staring at the obelisk, lost in thought. He decided to leave him alone.

Ronon pointed over to a lump of what looked like concrete cordoned off near the obelisk, "What's that?"

McKay answered, "That's part of the leg of the tower the bomb was mounted on. The intense heat from the nuclear explosion vaporized it, all that was left, the stubs you see."

"Pretty powerful explosion," Ronon said. No one answered, letting his comment hang in the air.

The friends spent the next half-hour walking around the enclosure, perusing the memorial pictures of the explosion and the men who built the bomb, and at the "Fat Man" bomb casing. Sitting on a flat bed, the large white casing was egg-shaped, with a large box-like fin.

Ronon asked McKay, "That the bomb?"

"The bomb casing, called the Fat Man, the bomb was inside. This is what the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan on August 9, 1945 looked like."

Beckett sneered, "Bloody ugly if you ask me."

McKay's head snapped around, "That bomb was a work of art…"

Sputtering, Beckett said, "A-Art? You call this art? This thing killed millions of people…"

"Damn it, Carson…"

Sheppard stepped between them, "Enough. I think we can agree that while a technical wonder, the bomb did kill a lot of innocent people… argument settled."

Ronon grasped Beckett's arm and drew him away toward a large metal shed with a plaque attached. After a few minutes, they returned to where Sheppard and McKay were standing.

Ronon said, "Nothing to see there, once you could see the crater the bomb made but apparently, sand covers it now."

"Rodney, what's trinitite?" Beckett asked, a note of caution in his voice as he directed the question to McKay.

"Uh… wait a minute, let me see if I can find some." McKay walked around for a bit, then muttered, "There's a piece." Bending over he picked up a small object and returned to the others. Holding out his palm, revealing a piece of green glass less than an inch in diameter, he said, "This is trinitite, when the bomb went off, the heat was so intense it melted the sand into glass."

Ronon took the trinitite from McKay, "The bomb did this… hard to believe."

"When they could access the site again, they found this trinitite covering the entire area, later they removed it all. But you can't take that, they won't allow it."

Ronon dropped the glass onto the sandy ground, then grinned at McKay.

"Rodney, you ready to leave?"

McKay turned his head at Sheppard's question, "Yeah… but I like to see the McDonald house."

"Where is it located?"

"Not too far, I think."

Sheppard nodded and waved to the captain, who joined then. "Captain, we've taken up enough of your time, but Dr. McKay has one last request. He'd like to see the McDonald house."

"Not a problem, Colonel; proceed back to your car and wait for me outside the gate, I'll take you to the McDonald House."

Sheppard pulled through the outer gate, and waited while the captain secured the compound, then pulled around them and led them to the McDonald House, approximately two miles away.

They parked outside the low stone wall surrounding the one-story tan stucco building. McKay hopped out of the car, and headed straight toward the dwelling. Captain Hargood walked up to Sheppard as he got out of the Range Rover, noticing McKay heading for the front door. He yelled out, "Doctor... you'll need the keys." McKay turned, and Hargood tossed the keys to him.

"Colonel, I didn't ask but Doctor McKay's a scientist, not a medical doctor, isn't he?"

Sheppard's eyebrow raised, "Astrophysicist, but why do you ask?"

"I've been out here with VIPs before, sir. I can always tell the guys who might have worked on this project if they'd been around then. They get real quiet and reflective, but not reverent. It's almost as if they find the place fascinating and repulsive at the same time."

"An astute observation, Captain; I believe Doctor McKay is experiencing just what you described." He pursed his lips, "I think the people who are smart enough to create such a weapon, are smart enough to be scared by it."

Ronon was standing next to a rectangular concrete box, its lid laying to the side. He asked the captain, "What's this?"

"That was a time capsule; it was buried in 1984 when the house was restored and opened last year. It contained pictures, some documents and a scroll with the names of the people who were present at the dedication. The documents are on display in the WSMR Museum Trinity exhibition."

Sheppard jerked his head toward the building, "Gonna check on McKay."

He found the scientist in one of the back rooms, "You okay?"

"I… I didn't expect this place would make me feel…"

"Excited and depressed at the same time?"

McKay stared at him for a second, "Yeah… more disturbed really. This is where they assembled the bomb. Did you know the Manhattan Project had spies in Germany learning all they could about the German's efforts to build one of these things?"

"You built one of these things… or rebuilt one."

"Yeah, but not one of these."

"Well, if you're jealous, you did blow up a solar system. These guys didn't do that."

McKay opened his mouth, but shut it when he saw Sheppard's impish grin. With a slight grin of his own, he said, "Rebuilt that 'bomb', so I guess I never created such destruction."

"Right or wrong, Rodney, the US didn't think they had a choice. They did what they thought they had to do."

McKay sucked in a deep breath, "I guess so."

Sheppard peered past McKay out the window into the back yard where Beckett and McKay were peering into a concrete container. He asked, "You ready to go? I'm hungry and if we don't feed Ronon regularly, we'll all be in trouble."

McKay nodded and they headed outside, where Beckett, coming from around the house, met them; Ronon and the captain behind him. "Did ya see the swimming pool? These guys used an old cistern as a pool, Captain Hargood says it gets really hot here in the summer."

"Saw it through the back window," McKay answered as he handed the key to Hargood. "We locked it."

Hargood smiled, "Sir... Colonel Cooper thought you might not want to make the long drive back to Holloman, if you prefer to exit the base on the north perimeter you can. It's much quicker to get to Highway380 from here and just about 12 miles to the interstate; it'll be a faster trip to Las Cruses."

"That would be great; I wasn't looking forward to the drive back to Holloman."

"Sir, you will pass by the Stallion Army Air Field, there's an MP shack right on the road, leave the pass there and an MP will escort you off the base. I'll notify Holloman you've departed. When you get to 380, turn left, and if you are hungry, there is a place in San Antonio called Buckhorn Tavern, best hamburgers anywhere. The green chili cheeseburger is my favorite food of all time. It'll be on your left, past Main Street; got a big buck head on the roof."

"Thanks, Captain, it's been a pleasure. We appreciate your time."

The pleasure was mine, Colonel, gentlemen." He shook hands with everyone, then pulled out a map, "Follow this road and when it dead ends turn right, and it will take you to the air field. Enjoy the rest of your leave."

~ooOoo~

The MP escorting them off the base, made a U-turn at the main highway. As he pulled up beside the Rover, he pointed toward the left and gave Sheppard a quick salute. Sheppard returned the salute and turned onto Highway 380 heading toward the small town of San Antonio, NM.

"How far is this restaurant?"

"Not that far, Rodney; be patient, we're all hungry," Sheppard answered. A harrumph was all he heard from the back seat.

The two-lane road stretched toward the horizon; green scrub dotted the terrain, rolling ridges in the distance. During the trip from the McDonald House to the gate, Beckett kept their attention, reading from the Trinity Site brochure.

Beckett sighed, looking at Rodney, "Glad you wanted to visit the site, very humbling. I remember studying all of this in school, but it didn't feel real, any more than reading about any history we haven't lived through. This made it very real to me."

"The problem with each generation, Carson; we never really learn from the past we didn't experience." Sheppard tapped the steering wheel. "I've been pretty up-close and personal to those bombs. Hope never to do that again."

The small town of San Antonio was little more than a sagebrush town with an old Spanish Mission church and a collection of stucco buildings. As they crossed Main Street, Sheppard said, "Look on the left for a building with a mounted elk head on the roof, that's where we're going, The Buckhorn Tavern."

Seconds later, Ronon pointed. "There it is."

The restaurant was unassuming but slightly more festive than the surrounding businesses. A low rail fence surrounded the building; an outdoor patio faced the street. A large mounted Elk head with a huge antler rack adorned the roof.

McKay hopped out of the car, and looked around, "Yep, Sheppard, always take us to the finest places."

Sheppard pulled off his sunglasses, squinting in the early afternoon sun, "Best green chili cheeseburgers around, McKay. What more do you want?"

Beckett pushed passed them, announcing, "I want a bathroom."

The interior of the restaurant was rustic, dark and cool; walls of knotty pine with Tiffany style lamps hanging from the ceiling. Just past two o'clock, there were still several diners inside; the bartender seated them, handing them menus. As they looked over the food selections, their server, her curly red hair pulled back in a pony-tail, arrived with glasses of water.

Smiling broadly, she said, "Welcome to the Buckhorn Tavern. I'm Cadi and what can I get for you?"

Sheppard gave his friends a questioning look, "Green-chili Cheeseburgers?" Everyone nodded and he said, "Four Buckhorn burgers, basket of fries, basket of onion-rings, four of your best local beers, and the Frito Pie."

"I'll take good care of you handsome boys, be back in a jiffy."

Rodney rolled his eyes upward, "Yeah… there you go, another waitress…"

"It's more appropriate to call them servers, Rodney, and she said boys… that certainly includes you."

Beckett snickered, "At least the boy part."

McKay sat back in his chair, rigid, crossing his arms. Sheppard stared at him, then leaned over, "Lighten up... you should be used to teasing by now."

The scientist glanced quickly at his friends, "Sorry… I…"

Sheppard asked, his voice low, "The Trinity Site really got to you, didn't it?"

McKay rolled the napkin-wrapped silverware in his fingers, taking a slight breath before his spoke. "Richard Feynman was a physicist who worked on the Manhattan Project; his picture was posted on the fence at Trinity. He was a junior scientist on the project, having just received his PhD, and his task to calculate the yields of a fission bomb. I met him; a couple of years before his death, he guest-lectured at my university. There was a reception for him afterwards, and I was invited by one of my professors. Listening to him talk about science for nearly four hours was amazing. But at one point, someone asked him about his work on the bomb, and his demeanor changed, he clearly didn't want to talk about it. I'll never forget the haunted look in his eyes, but I didn't understand why he felt that way. Back then I thought working on the Project would be a fascinating experience." He paused, rubbing his temple, "After what we've been through, I understand now."

He stopped as Cadi brought their mugs of beer, "Here you go, boys. You wanted our best local beer; this is La Cumbre South Peak pilsner on tap." She left patting Ronon on the shoulder.

"Rodney," Beckett said, "Apparently, Feynman made quite an impact on you."

Sheppard nodded, "I didn't think you had heroes, you always say you're smarter than all of them."

"I… yes, if I had a hero, he'd be it. Feynman was brilliant; his work on quantum electrodynamics won him the Nobel Prize." McKay's mouth turned up in a faint smile, "He had a wicked sense of humor, used to play pranks on people. He got bored while working on the Manhattan Project and figured out how to pick the padlocks on some of the scientists' file cabinets… left notes inside. Feynman had them all worried that there was a spy among them. Turned out there was a spy and Feynman used to borrow his car to go see his ill wife not realizing the spy was also using the car to transport secrets. One of my professors told me he used to go out into the desert and play drums, dance and chant, starting rumors about a mysterious Indian they called "Injun Joe."

Ronon grinned and lifted his beer, "To Injun Joe."

Echoing Ronon's toast, they tapped their mugs together and drank to Richard Feynman. Sheppard said, "Everyone should have a hero, Rodney; but if you start dancing and chanting, I'm going to claim I don't know you."

"Oh yeah, this from a man whose hero is Evil Knievel."

Sheppard grumbled, "Better than Batman."

Sheppard and McKay debated the merits of Batman until their food was served. They dove into their meals, conversation spotty as they ate.

Ronon took a huge bite of the green-chili burger, and mumbled, "This is good."

Overhearing him, Cadi walked over, "You bet that's a good burger, beat Bobby Flay in a showdown, last year. Can I get you guys another round?"

Everyone nodded, and Ronon asked, "Who is Bobby Flay?"

Cadi looked surprised, "You boys don't know who Bobby Flay is?"

Beckett threw up his hand, "I do, me mum likes him. He's a celebrity chef, but mum likes Gordan Ramsey better."

"Well, honey, I'd take either one of those boys." She grinned, asking Sheppard, "Military right?"

Sheppard laughed, "What gave us away?"

"Been around these parts too long, I know military bearing when I see it, plus you guys never know anything about TV. Enjoy your food and I'll be right back with your beers."

A quizzical look on his face, Ronon asked Beckett, "What's a celebrity chef?"

"They are trained cooks like Sergeant Mackie on… at home. A lot of them have television shows."

Ronon stared blankly at Sheppard, "Teyla was right; you do have some strange customs."

"Can't disagree with that." Sheppard snatched the last onion ring, "Finish up and let's get on the road; that hotel pool is calling me."

~ooOoo~

Cold beer in hand, John Sheppard sank down into the Jacuzzi tub, happy to relax after a very long day. After finishing lunch, they took the interstate back to Las Cruces, and spent a couple of hours at the pool. Now, he had two hours before they left for dinner, and he planned to do absolutely nothing.

Enveloped by the steam rising from the gurgling water, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. Images of their trip floated through his thoughts, Carson and Rodney drunk; the harden stare of the biker at the roadhouse, Carson's face when Rodney was kidnapped, the rocking of the houseboat, Ronon being shot. Jumble memories of the situations they encountered, and while there were certainly bad things, something good had come from this trip. Despite being resistant to forming relationships, he knew the three men with him were the closest friends he could hope to have. He took a long swig from his beer and let the good memories wash over him.

Getting uncomfortable as the water cooled, Sheppard dragged himself from the tub and took a quick hot shower. He walked into the bedroom and pulled a T-shirt and track pants from his suitcase, slipped them on and sat down on the bed. Looking around the room, he realized something else was happening to him. Listening to the others talk about their families made him think about his own. Well… maybe not Rodney, he never talked much about his family other than Jeannie. Sheppard wondered if he had not needed his brilliant sister's help, whether Rodney would have told them about her.

He got up and grabbed another beer, chilling in the ice bucket, popped the cap and drank a third of the cold brew. As the icy liquid slid down his throat, he picked his wallet up from the dresser and pulled out a well-worn folded square of paper. As he opened it, he wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he took a deep breath and dialed the number written on the paper.

The phone rang three times and Sheppard nearly hung up, but stopped when a soft voice with a lilting Cajun accent answered. He hesitated for a moment, and she repeated hello; in a quiet voice, he said, "Aunt Adelise?"

The gasp she emitted was nearly audible without the phone, her voice quivering as she said, "John… John is that you?" He could hear her rapid breathing as she waited for his reply.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"

"How am I? Better than I have been in years now that I hear your voice. Where are you? The last time I spoke with Dave, he told me he hadn't heard from you since you were in Maryland, and had no clue where you were stationed."

He hesitated at hearing Dave's name, "I'm on leave and traveling with some people I work with at the moment."

"Well, that's a first; I don't remember you taking leave very often. Where are you right now?"

"In New Mexico, we rented a car, and we've been wandering through the Southwest."

"That sounds like fun. How are you? I know we didn't have much time to talk at your father's wake; I was worried about you."

"I'm fine. I… uh… had a chat with Dave before I returned to duty and… well, things are better, I guess."

"That's good; I knew things were a bit tense at the beginning. Have you spoken to him while you're on leave?"

"No, I understand he's traveling in Europe. So, how are you and Uncle Don and everyone?"

"Well, fishing in the Gulf hasn't been the greatest since the oil spill, but we're getting by. Don's been really involved in the fishing association's efforts to hold the oil company responsible, so he's been gone a lot."

"I heard about the spill; didn't they just get the well capped?"

"They did, finally, declared it sealed on September 19. That, however, doesn't mean the problems are over; there's a lot of oil left in the Gulf. But enough about us, I want to know more about you. How long is your leave?"

Sheppard bit his lip, getting up the courage to tell her why he called, "Actually we have a couple more weeks. I was thinking, would you mind if we stopped by for a couple of hours… I'd like to see you."

"Alright? What do you think? John, we'd love to see you and your friends. And none of this 'couple of hours' nonsense, you plan on spending a couple of days."

"I don't want to impose… you don't have to put us up; we'll get hotel."

"John Francis Sheppard, no more… you and your friends will stay right here. You know we built a house next door to the homestead. Tristen and Angie live in Pop's old house… they fixed it up; it looks great."

The excitement in her voice was evident and Sheppard felt something he hadn't felt until he arrived on Atlantis, something he felt the summer he spent with his grandfather when he was eighteen. He felt a sense of belonging.

"Okay, we'll stay with you. We're in Las Cruses but will probably leave here tomorrow. Maybe we'll be there by the end of the week?"

"That would be perfect! Don will be home by then, and we will have the biggest cookout. I'm so happy you called."

"Me, too; I'll keep in touch and let you know our timing a bit later in the week."

They said good-bye and Sheppard blew out a deep breath. He was going home.

~ooOoo~

Just past 1930 hours, they walked into the Cattle Baron restaurant, located a few blocks from the hotel on the busy main thoroughfare. All the tables were occupied, and the hostess directed them to the bar, assuring them a table would be available soon.

Sitting at a rustic long table in the bar, Beckett said, "This is a nice place, I love the wooden tree trunks everywhere." He pointed to the polished, stained timbers framing sections of the interior.

Sheppard looked around the understated room with tan stucco walls and soft lighting; wagon-wheel chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the backs of the leather barstools covered with cowhide. "I like this, very pleasant. The desk clerk said it was his favorite place to eat, great steaks and I am in the mood for a big steak."

Ronon grinned, "The bigger the better."

The server brought their beverages and for a moment, they sat quietly, enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant, chatting about their day. True to her word, the hostess called for them within fifteen minutes, and drinks in hand they headed for their table.

After they placed their order, Ronon and McKay went to the salad bar, as Beckett as Sheppard waited for Caesar's salads. Beckett threw back the last of his scotch then caught Sheppard's eye.

"So… what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since we got back this afternoon, you've seemed preoccupied with something. Are you worried about Zelenka's call?"

Sheppard bobbed his head slightly indicating no, "Intrigued, concerned, but not worried about what's going on. I do think something is going on but nothing I can do about it at the moment."

"Then what's going on with you?"

"When did you become a psychologist?"

Beckett didn't respond, prompting Sheppard to lean forward, elbows on the table, spinning his scotch glass. For a second, he watched the amber liquid swirl inside the heavy glass. Without looking up, he said, "I told you yesterday, I was thinking about stopping in Louisiana to see my aunt." Beckett remained silent, and Sheppard continued, "I called her after we left the pool, and she said she'd be happy to have us visit."

"That's good, laddie, but should we go with you? Wouldn't you rather see them alone?"

"No." Sheppard realized he'd answered sharply. "Sorry, I suppose… I don't know… I'd just like for you to see where my grandfather lived." He gulped down the last of his scotch.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

Sheppard stared down at his now empty glass, "He did. When Dave and I were young, our grandfather was always present at the holidays. We even went to Houma one year; I was five, and my grandfather took Dave and me out on one of the fishing boats. I remember telling my mother that I almost like boats as much as planes."

"Almost…" Beckett grinned.

"Yeah… almost." Sheppard caught the eye of their server and indicated they needed another round. "I didn't see my grandfather from Christmas when I was seven until the summer I was eighteen."

"Why?"

"When my mother died my grandfather was on a fishing trip; he didn't get word until the day of the funeral. My aunt and uncle came as soon as they heard, but my grandfather didn't make it until three days later. My dad refused to let him see us."

"John, I'm sorry."

Sheppard looked blankly beyond Beckett, then noticed McKay and Ronon returning from the salad bar. "No more talk about this, okay?"

Beckett nodded and as Ronon sat down, said, "Laddie, did ya leave anything?"

Ronon looked at his plate, piled with various salads and a lot of watermelon, and replied, "Tried not to."

The server brought Sheppard and Beckett's salads, followed up by another round of drinks, and took their dinner order.

Sheppard ate a few bites of salad, then said, "So, uh… I talked with my aunt Adelise this afternoon, and she invited us to spend a couple of days with her. You guys okay with that?"

Ronon swallowed a chunk of watermelon, then said, "Told you it would be good to meet your family."

"I've never been to Louisiana, always wanted to go to New Orleans." McKay said, then asked, "Are the mosquitoes rampant now? I'm allergic to them."

Beckett scoffed, "You're allergic to every bloody thing, or so you say. How do you live, Rodney?"

McKay sputtered, "I am allergic to insect…."

Sheppard interjected, "It is fall, but still humid, so there might be. We'll get mosquito netting and drape it over you."

Beckett snickered, "There's a lime wedge on the table," pointing to Ronon's tequila, "don't get too close."

"Go ahead, have fun at my expense; just wait until I die from a mosquito bite."

They fussed until their entrees arrived and after one taste of the thick, succulent steaks, conversation fell to a minimum, mostly consisting of groans of delight. After a round of coffee and dessert for Beckett and McKay, Sheppard paid the bill.

In the parking lot, Sheppard was opening the Range Rover's door, when he noticed Beckett wasn't with them. "Where's Carson?"

McKay got into the back seat, "Stopped by the restroom, said he'd be right out"

Sheppard and Ronon got into the vehicle, parked across the drive way, facing the street. Ronon patted his stomach, remarking, "That was a good steak."

"Yeah, it was one of the best I've ever tasted." Looking in the side mirror, he saw Beckett exiting the restaurant, "Here he comes."

A flash of light momentarily blinded Sheppard, and he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. When he realized what he was seeing, he went cold, adrenaline flooding his body. A car had careened off the highway over the curb and was heading directly for Beckett.

If asked to describe what happened, Sheppard would only be able to say the sequence of events moved into extreme slow motion in his consciousness. He vaguely remembered yelling Carson's name, and hearing Rodney's anxious shout. He didn't remember getting out of the Rover but did recall hearing a thud as he reached the rear of the vehicle.

The errant car veered off, striking a parked car, horn blaring. Sheppard's heart seized as he saw what appeared to be a lump lying against the restaurant wall, near the door. Running, he glanced over at the car in time to see the driver jump out and run, Ronon on his heels. He was aware of sirens, but his only focus was Beckett.

Dropping to his knees, Sheppard touched Beckett's neck with his fingertips, not breathing until he felt the steady thump of Beckett's pulse. He sensed someone nearby and looking to his left saw McKay, eyes wide, visibly shaking.

"John… is he?"

"He's alive… call 911."

"No… police just pulled in, must have been chasing that car."

Sheppard looked around to see a Las Cruces police officer running toward him, three others racing in the direction Ronon and the driver ran.

"Officer, my friend took off after the driver, they ran that way. He's tall with dreadlocks, don't hurt him."

The officer didn't hesitate, keying his radio, "Suspect fled southbound on foot, three officers and a civilian, tall with dreadlocks ran after him, use extreme caution. I repeat, use extreme caution." He then called dispatch, "Roll rescue to the Cattle Baron restaurant, 790 S Telshor Blvd, auto vs. pedestrian."

Kneeling down next to Sheppard, "What happened sir?"

Sheppard filled him in and as he finished, the officers who ran after Ronon and the driver, returned with the driver in custody, Ronon following.

Ronon ran toward them, "Sheppard?"

"He's alive, but unconscious."

Sirens reached them, and a red and white Las Cruces Fire Rescue ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Two paramedics hopped out the back, unloaded a gurney, and headed toward Beckett.

Ronon grabbed McKay and pulled him away as Sheppard stood up, backing up a few steps. The paramedics began triage, securing Beckett's neck as they turned him over, then placing a collar on him and strapping him to a backboard. As the paramedics continued to assess Beckett, the driver asked for information.

"Rodney, give Carson's info to this firefighter, while I talk to the police."

Rodney nodded and Sheppard, along with Ronon, approached the police officers, who were gathered around the suspect. The first officer on the scene motioned for them to approach.

The officer looked up at Ronon, "I'm Sergeant Len Parks. Gotta thank you, I'm not certain we could've caught up with Keeler. Curt here," pointed to one of the officers who ran after the suspect, "said you ran like the wind."

"I was motivated."

"Uh… yeah, apparently. How's your friend."

"Don't know yet, but he's alive. What happened here?"

"Keeler's a chronic offender, mostly petty theft. This time, however, he robbed a convenient store and carjacked a woman who just pulled in, threw her to the pavement and broke her arm." He paused, then asked, "Now, who are you and your friends, noticed the Range Rover has California plates. You just passing through?

Sheppard glanced at the Rover, the doors wide open, smiled slightly, "Not hard to tell which vehicle we were in. I'm Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, the others are members of my team, Ronon Dex, Doctor Rodney McKay, and the injured man is Doctor Carson Beckett. We're on leave, traveling through the southwest."

"Doctors Beckett and McKay, both physicians?"

"No, Carson's a physician, McKay's an astrophysicist."

At the mention of astrophysicist, the officer's eyebrow rose, but he didn't comment. "Look, they're loading your friend onto a gurney; they'll be taking him to Memorial, which is just down Telshor. Go ahead and follow the ambulance, but at posted speed. I'll get everyone's statement there."

"Thanks." Sheppard pivoted on his heel, and he and Ronon rejoined McKay. "Rodney?"

"He may have a concussion, but nothing appears to be broken. The paramedics are worried about internal injuries."

The three friends stood silently as Beckett was loaded into the ambulance. Sheppard led them to the Rover, and they pulled out behind the ambulance.

~ooOoo~

Sheppard was alone. Sergeant Parks was interviewing McKay; Ronon wandered off somewhere, and Beckett was in radiology. He closed his eyes shutting out the blinding lights in the treatment room; he despised fluorescent lights. Bright lights reminded him of too many times waking up in the infirmary and of Beckett, who recognized his phobia and always kept the lights over his bed dimmed when he was a patient.

He was queasy, the delicious steak he'd enjoyed two hours before felt like a churning blob of grease in his stomach. Dropping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees, he wondered why it had to be Beckett. How many times had he awakened in the infirmary to hear the doctor's Scottish brogue reassuring him that he'd be fine? Or the times when one of his team or one of Atlantis' crew was injured and Beckett was there, taking care of them all. A crushing pain gripped Sheppard's chest; losing Beckett for the second time was an unbearable thought.

"Here."

Startled, Sheppard looked up to find Ronon standing over him, a cup of coffee in his extended hand. He took the cup, "Thanks."

He took a sip of the strong, hot coffee, then asked, "Where's Rodney, still with the police?"

"The sergeant left; McKay's at the nurses' station demanding to know why Beckett wasn't back yet."

Sheppard stretched out his long legs into the area vacated by the bed, "He's having a CT and an MRI; sometimes MRIs take time."

Ronon sat down next to him, "You, okay?"

"Me?" Sheppard slouched deeper into the chair, "I'm fine."

"I know better, somehow you think this is your fault."

Sheppard's head snapped around, his eyes' dark, "What makes you think that."

"Something Teyla told me… that you always took responsibility for everything regardless of your actual role in whatever happened."

"Those her words?"

"Yeah, more or less."

Sheppard didn't reply right away, too many emotions surging through him. When he did speak, his voice was raspy, "Teyla's usually right, but not this time. This was an accident, a result of unfortunate timing. I couldn't have prevented it. Maybe that's what's really bothering me… I couldn't prevent it."

McKay entered the glass-enclosed treatment room, "These people are idiots, they can't or won't tell me anything."

"Patience Rodney, they'll tell us soon enough."

Ronon stood up and handed a cup of coffee to McKay, "Here, little man; sit down and drink this." Ronon sat on the rolling stool, while McKay took the other chair.

The next twenty minutes passed in near silence as the men waited for Beckett to return. All three jumped to their feet when a radiology tech steered Beckett's bed into the room.

"All done, the doctors are going over the results of the MRI and CT now, so they should be with you shortly." He squared the bed up in the room, and reconnected the monitors. "Just so you know he woke up a couple of times, but fell right back to sleep." He fiddled with some of the tubing," Okay, looks like he's all hooked up again, nurse should be in soon."

Sheppard thanked the tech and joined McKay next to Beckett's bed. "Good news about him regaining consciousness."

"He'd better…" McKay turned to Sheppard, "Why does this keep happening to us?"

Scratching his head, Sheppard replied, "I don't know… this was an accident, nothing more than an accident."

"We have a lot of those."

A mirthless smile crossed Sheppard's face, "That we do."

Both men were startled when Beckett spoke, "Um… where am I?"

McKay grinned, "You're in a hospital, had a run-in with a car."

"O-Okay… don't re-remember."

"Better you don't, Carson. Don't try to talk, just rest." Sheppard glanced over at Ronon to find the big man rubbing his eyes. He knew exactly how Ronon felt.

A few minutes later, the doctor arrived. "Gentlemen, I'm Doctor Regas. I understand you are on leave at the moment; heck of a thing to happen while on leave." He walked over to Beckett, who grunted a hello. "Nice to see you awake, Doctor, and I have good news. Your injuries are minor; you were very lucky."

He turned to Sheppard, "Rescue informed me you are a colonel in the Air Force, and your companions are members of your team." Sheppard answered yes, and the doctor asked, "So, no next of kin available?"

"No sir, his mother lives in Scotland, and we'd rather not upset her with this, better he tells her. As his CO, I can authorize any treatment."

"Well, the good news is there is very little treatment to do. Doctor Beckett was very lucky. Fortunately, he received a glancing blow from the car. He has a badly bruised left hip and thigh; knee ligaments slightly stretched, but radiology didn't show any internal injuries or broken bones. The mild concussion likely occurred when he hit the restaurant wall. There's a minor abrasion on his cheek, and it looks like he's developing a nice black eye, but the prognosis is good. Rest, some over the counter pain meds, and he should recover quickly. I do want to keep him over night, just to be safe. If all looks well tomorrow morning I'll discharge him."

"That's good, Doctor, thank you."

"One request, I know you are traveling, but I would prefer if he rested at least another day after he's released before you travel."

"Not a problem; we'll stay here as long as necessary."

"Good… the nurse should be in shortly; I believe they have a bed ready for him in TCU."

After the doctor departed, Sheppard turned to McKay and Ronon. "It's getting late, you two go back to the hotel and get some rest; I'll stay here. Tomorrow morning bring Carson a change of clothes." He grabbed the plastic bag with belongings and fished out his hotel key card, handing it to McKay. Ronon and McKay didn't move.

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "Don't make me have to order you. Go… I'll stay with Carson."

Ronon crossed his arms, "Sheppard…"

"Please, take McKay and go back to the hotel."

The steely glare on Sheppard's face conveyed only one meaning to Ronon, don't argue. "Okay… come on McKay." He grabbed McKay by the shirtsleeve and hustled him out the door.

Beckett was moved to the Transitional Care Unit about thirty minutes after Ronon and McKay left. It was midnight before the nurses had him settled and left them alone. Sheppard sat down in the recliner next to the window and stared out into the dark night.

Unsettled was the only way to describe his mood. He knew most of his unease was due to Beckett's injury, but he also knew that making the decision to see his aunt, along with whatever was happening on Atlantis certainly was affecting him.

He had cultivated compartmentalizing his emotions to an art, never opening himself to anyone, other than his grandfather, since his mother died. He scoffed, muttering to himself, 'You did try once." He'd tried with Nancy, but that part of his life could only be classified a disaster. He should have known to stay away from anyone his father introduced to him. She thought she could turn him into another Patrick Sheppard; when she realized she couldn't, she also realized she wanted no part of being married to the military. It wasn't her fault; she was a good person, but he had no intention of becoming his father or his brother.

A soft moan from Beckett brought Sheppard to his feet. Leaning over the bed rail, he whispered, "Carson, you're awake?"

"Ummm… yeah…. thirsty…"

Sheppard poured water into a Styrofoam cup and help him sit up to take a sip. "How do you feel?"

"A little shaky, and my head hurts. What happened?"

"Police were chasing a robber and carjacker; the punk lost control of the vehicle as he approached the restaurant. He jumped the curb, and you were in the way. Doctor said you suffered a glancing blow from the car, but hit your head on the restaurant wall."

"Don't remember… I remember leaving the bathroom and going outside, then nothing. What are my injuries?"

"Mild concussion, abrasion on your cheek and a black eye. Your left hip and thigh are bruised and the ligaments in your left knee somewhat stretched. No broken bones or internal injuries."

"Lucky…"

"Very lucky… now go back to sleep, the doctor said if you rested and looked good tomorrow, he'll discharge you in the morning."

"Aye… laddie… very tired…" Becket drifted off to sleep.

Sheppard sat down, reclining the chair until he was nearly prone. As he listened to Beckett's even breathing, he drifted off to sleep. Throughout the night, he awoke each time the nursing staff entered the room to check on Beckett. Too many years of combat readiness brought him instantly awake from even a deep sleep.

Waking with a start, he expected to see the nurse again, instead found Rodney standing near the foot of the bed, looking disheveled. Glancing at his watch, he asked, "McKay, its 0530, what are you doing here?"

"Ronon woke me up thirty minutes ago and insisted we come. Here are Carson's clothes." McKay dropped a plastic bag onto the end of the tray table and glanced at Beckett, "How is he?"

"Good, vitals are stable; he slept most of the night, woke up a couple of times, and we talked. He doesn't remember a thing after exiting the restaurant. He peered around McKay, "Where's Ronon?"

"Stopped by the coffee shop," he paused, "You okay?"

Sheppard stood up, stretching, "Keep your voice down. Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Ronon walked in with coffee and a bag of doughnuts, answering Sheppard's question. "Because it's usually you lying the bed injured, while we wait for you to get better. McKay thinks the fact you're okay and Beckett's hurt is messing with your mind."

McKay was glaring at Ronon as Sheppard grabbed a coffee cup and dug through the bag, finding a cinnamon doughnut. He took a bite, a sip of coffee and then replied, "I have to admit it feels pretty weird; Carson's supposed to be taking care of us, not the other way around."

Sheppard looked at McKay, "I'm fine. The important thing now is to take care of Carson."

"I'm fine, too, just have a wee headache, and I'm hungry, got another doughnut?"

McKay reacted first to the weak voice coming from the bed, "Carson, you okay?"

"I told you, I'm fine, stop worrying about me."

Ronon chuckled, "Sounds like you, Sheppard."

Sheppard compressed his lips in a mock frown, "Watch it, Chewie." Ronon grinned, as he handed Beckett a doughnut.

McKay asked, "So what's the plan? When does he get out of here?"

"The ER doc said if he was stable, and if he felt good this morning, he would release him this morning. Hopefully, that will happen."

The hospitalist released Beckett at noon, and they arrived at the Encanto by 1300 hours. Ronon accompanied Beckett to his suite, while Sheppard headed to his room to take a shower, and McKay picked up lunch from the hotel.

When Sheppard arrived at Beckett's room, he found the doctor stretched out on the couch, McKay and Ronon sitting at the small table eating lunch. Sheppard grabbed a beef burrito and sat down in an arm chair. He asked Beckett, "Feeling better?"

"Aye, felt good to get a shower, although I didn't need mother hen over there making certain I didn't fall."

Sheppard smiled at Ronon, "Good man."

Beckett said, "John, I'm sorry to slow down your plans to get to your aunt's."

"No problems, Houma's only fifteen hours from here and I told her I'd let her know when we'd be arriving. She's not expecting us until late in the week. I'll call her when we leave here and let her know."

McKay asked, "So we'll drive straight through?"

"No, if we leave day-after tomorrow, which will be Tuesday… we can stop a couple of times if we want and still get to Houma by Friday or Saturday. We'll stay in Houma for a couple of days and decide where to go from there for the rest of our leave."

McKay, his eyes bright, asked, "Then we go home?"

Sheppard nodded, "Then we go home."

Rodney smiled.

* * *

Off to Houma! Hope you enjoyed…. Would love to hear from you.

As I try to do, all the hotels, restaurants, and attractions are real (I really want to stay at the Encanto). The excerpt from the essay by Ralph Carlisle Smith and most of the information regarding the site and its history can be found online on the White Sands Army Missile Range site. There is a change regarding the Trinity Site… due to budget issues, the site is only open one day per year now, instead of two.

I promise I will finish this story as soon as I can… and I promise to tie up all the loose ends, and maybe we'll even find out what the mystery is on Atlantis.

Thanks for taking the trip with me so far…. I really appreciate it!


End file.
